Wicked as Sin
by BlueEyes790
Summary: Alternate Seventh Season after Buffy learns that Spike has a soul. How will she deal with the vampire she's fought so long to hate when he is no longer the monster he used to be?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own any of the amazing characters or story lines from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that all belongs to Joss Whedon and the other writers.

* * *

Smoke steamed around Spike. Buffy's heart swooped in her chest making her feel queasy. His ramblings had finally centered on a central theme, one that was making her entirely uncomfortable.

"Can we rest now, Buffy?" he asked.

"Your soul," she whispered. "You got your soul back."

"Can we rest now?"

Buffy felt her knees trembling. It was all too much. It was one thing when Spike was crazy, rambling senselessly, but a soul. What was she to do with that? This was the same demon who had tried to rape her, not even months before; granted, their entire relationship had been nothing but violence. Now here he was, burning before her on a cross, begging her to let him rest.

A shaky breath escaped her. Buffy's feet were moving without any conscious thought on her part. Suddenly she was standing behind him, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. Her fingers were trembling severely, skimming over his bare skin.

"Spike."

So close to him, she was breathing in the dry ice smell of the smoke pluming up around him. It sparked her back into action. Gripping his shoulder, Buffy pulled him from the cross. A part deep in her soul was repelled to be touching Spike, touching him after he had grabbed her, after he had – Buffy fought not to remember.

Spike fell back from the cross, pushing Buffy to the floor. He lay against her. Her body shook with a noxious combination of revulsion and concern. Spike's skin was marred by the searing scar of the burn from the cross. His head on her shoulder, he breathed rapidly.

Her left hand quavered as she raised it to run it against his hair, trying to offer a comfort she wasn't sure he deserved. "You can rest now, Spike," Buffy whispered.

His body gave a long shudder before he became completely still against her, only his breath, a habit so old it could not be broken, raising his chest which was very slowly healing before her eyes. His right hand sought hers, Buffy bit back a cry of desperation as his fingers curled over her cold ones.

In the hour that followed, Buffy tried to come to terms with the situation as it was. Her mind went back to when Angel returned from his hell dimension, soul intact. He had been a savage beast, but she hadn't thought twice about helping him, he was still Angel to her, the first man she had ever loved, possibly the only one she ever would. Angelus had destroyed so much, he had murdered Jennifer, he had tormented Buffy and her friends; and still, without hesitation, she had come to his aid when he returned.

Maybe it was because Spike's assault had been done while he professed his love, because he had tried to violate her in a way unimaginable, that it was not so easy to forgive him, to come to his aid. Buffy couldn't stop the images of the attack from rising in her mind's eye, from causing her to jump slightly back from Spike as he moved in sleep. Buffy was as disgusted with herself now as she had been when she was sleeping with him.

The sky grew darker outside the chapel, a chilly breeze ran through the building. Spike drew himself closer to her, Buffy fought not to pull back completely. Exhaustion crashed over her, she wanted to rest just as much as Spike did. Desperation took control of her mind; she had to get out of here.

As gently as she could, Buffy inched Spike to the cold hard floor. He stirred, but didn't wake. With tears welling, she ran from the chapel.

As she ran, Buffy thought of all of the contradictions that comprised Spike. The absolute demon and fiend that had plagued her early years in Sunnydale. Who had trapped her mother, who had come close to killing her on multiple occasions. The Spike after the chip, who was intolerably vicious, but couldn't attack, the one who slowly slid into being almost docile. A Rottweiler, that was held back by a chain. The Spike who professed his love for her, following her around like a love sick puppy, having entirely lost his edge.

Then there was the Spike who was there for her after she came back. The only one who was there for her, the one Buffy could tell all her darkest thoughts to without fear of being questioned or condemned, or hurting his feelings. Buffy had used and abused that Spike to no end of her shame, but what he had done to her in return, was that forgivable?

Was it any worse than what she had done to him? She had very violently taken what she wanted from Spike. Buffy had taken it from him because she knew he wouldn't protest. She had set violence up as a standard in their relationship as an okay means of demonstrating desire. Spike's actions were as wrong as hers had been, but were they any worse?

Her heart ached. The Spike that was dangerous, there was an allure to him that called to the Slayer in her. Buffy could never be with someone who was docile and tame, it wouldn't work with the violence and energy that was constantly thrumming through her life. There were aspects of Spike that she had found frighteningly attractive, aspects that she didn't necessarily want to admit to. The fact that he didn't look utterly repulsive as a vampire was certainly one of them. She found his feral form to be . . . Honestly Buffy wanted to kiss him just as much when he was a vampire as she did when he was standing strong behind her, no questions asked, in a way that not even her friends could ever do.

Spike never doubted her, even as a soulless vampire, he had been there for her every chance she gave him. But it was a mess. Spike was not the person she was supposed to be with. He was demonic, evil. And now he had a soul. What did that mean?

* * *

When she reached home, Dawn and Willow were already sleeping. Buffy could hear Andrew muttering to himself in the spare room, it was a never ending habit of his. It was close on three in the morning. Buffy was exhausted, but she felt the need to cleanse herself of the evening's events.

Kicking off her boots, she headed upstairs into a burning hot shower. Buffy let the flaming water and soap melt away the sense of dirtiness that lingered over her after having been in such close contact with Spike, she let it melt away her indecision over what to do for him, if anything.

When she finally reached to turn the shower off, her skin was pruned, the entire bathroom steamed up. Buffy wrapped herself in one of the fuzziest towels; standing before the mirror, she stared back at her reflection, her green eyes filled with her worries and anxieties. With one finger, Buffy swiped a line across the steam covered glass, blurring her image.

She padded across to her room, trading her towel for a pair of sweat pants and an old t-shirt. The shirt was either Riley's or Angel's, Buffy didn't stop to ponder the original owner. Old t-shirts were all that she had left of her previous boyfriend's. Of course, Angel still stayed in contact the way he always had, showing up without a moment's notice, emerging from the shadows. And her heart still beat three times over at the very sight of him. She would always love Angel, there was no question of that. But would he always be the first one in her heart?

She crawled beneath the covers of her bed, relishing their familiar smell on a night when nothing made sense. Try as she might, Buffy couldn't block out conscious thought any more than she could control what she was thinking.

With her head sunk into her pillow, her thoughts ran back to the song Spike had once sung her. He had told her, "You know, you got a willing slave." It scared her to think that was true. Tonight he had told her, "I got a soul for you." What power did she hold over him?

Buffy focused all her energy on falling asleep, pinched her eyes closed. Eventually, blessed darkness floated her away from consciousness.

* * *

The morning sunlight streamed in through the window, her shades doing a poor job of preventing the light from penetrating her dreams. In the bathroom Buffy could hear Dawn getting ready for school. She rolled over onto her side. Who could she tell about Spike? If things had been as they were the year before, Buffy would have been able to confide in Tara. A sense of sadness swelled up inside her chest, she beat it back down. There were so many losses after all these years.

It was all building up. All of the tragedies, big and small, year and after year of being the Slayer. It was all there, resting on her shoulders, pushing her down. And who could understand? Only someone who had been alive for as long as it took for such tragedies to build up.

Shoving this from her mind, Buffy threw her feet over the bed, feeling her soft carpet beneath her feet. She stood up, moving to her wardrobe, swapping her pajamas for day clothes. Buffy was looking forward to patrolling tonight. Working out her excess energy and nerves.

Tramping down the stairs, Buffy poured Dawn some cereal for breakfast, and put two slices of bread in the toaster for herself. She sat on the kitchen stool, sipping orange juice as she waited for her toast to pop up.

Should she look in on Spike? Tension tightened her fingers on the glass, but Buffy was careful to keep her strength to herself.

"Good morning," Willow said. She swung around the island, pouring cereal for herself then taking the seat beside where Buffy was standing. "You were home late, a lot going on in the cemetery?"

Her lips creased. "You could definitely say that."

Willow looked up at her, pushing her bright orange bangs from her eyes. "A new evil?"

"No, not exactly. More like a revised one." Buffy bit into her toast.

Willow reached across the counter for the orange juice. She waited for Buffy to continue as she poured a glass for herself. When Buffy didn't seem inclined to explain her comment, Willow lifted an eyebrow. "So are we into secret keeping again? Because I kind of thought that died with the whole musical jamboree last year."

Buffy finished off her slice of toast. Her right foot begged to tap out her anxiety of telling Willow about Spike. It all seemed like horrible flashback to Angel coming back after being Angelus.

"Right." Her hands gripped the island, her knuckles white from clenching it. "Spike isn't just living in the school basement being crazy."

"He isn't?" Willow asked clearly confused.

Buffy shook her head. "He – he has his soul back."

Willow's jaw actually dropped; she stared at Buffy incredulously. Buffy gave her an understanding frown. Before they could discuss the implications, Dawn walked in.

She took in their dower expressions. "Did the milk go bad?" she asked, eyeing Willow's cereal suspiciously.

A nervous laugh bubbled up from Willow. "No! It's the orange juice. Too sour." She stuck her tongue out to emphasize the sourness.

"Yes. Much too sour," Buffy agreed. Grabbing the container, she poured it down the sink, grateful to be pouring money down the drain instead of having to tell another person about Spike.

"Okay." Dawn sat down across from her bowl of cereal, added milk, and munched down the sustenance.

"Anything going on at school today?" Willow asked, attempting to recreate a semblance of normalcy in their conversation.

"Well," Dawn paused between bites, "I'm planning on hitting on Davie Smith during fifth period. He's totally dreamy, and from all of the effort I've put into asking other people about him, he doesn't appear to be any type of demon or monster or more evil than a normal boy is."

Buffy walked around to the sink, getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. She passed it across to Dawn who happily accepted. "I could look into his student file for you. As guidance counselor they have granted me such powers as these."

"No!" Dawn thumped her glass on the table. "I mean, thanks for the offer, and it means a lot that you care, but, I'd like to attempt to be a normal high school girl and find out about him from all my friends and his, you know, kind of stalkery."

"What's more stalkery then looking into someone's file?" Willow asked.

"Too much stalking. It's like crossing a really creepy invisible stalking line."

Buffy smiled at her little sister. "I'll make you a deal, I'm still going to look into his file, since as your big sister it is my job to be overbearingly overprotective. However, I won't tell you what it says unless you ask."

"That's what people always say when they are finding out the sex of their child and someone always ends up telling," Dawn pouted.

"Good connection!" Willow nodded. She picked up the used dishes and deposited them into the sink. "Especially because I'm going to ask what's in the file."

"Ugh!" Dawn shoved up from the counter. "Let's go."

"See you later, with the info," Buffy wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Willow.

Willow beamed, "Don't worry, Dawny. My lips are sealed. Unless, of course, Davie Smith ends up being a robot or a werewolf or –"

"Goodbye!" Dawn threw the keys to Buffy and headed out the door.

Willow and Buffy broke down giggling. "God, I don't miss high school."

"Funny that you work there now then."

"Yes, but without all the classes and homework and tests, it's really not even the same place."

"Or building."

"So true."

Their giddiness faded, they looked at each other. "So later?"

"Yeah," Buffy nodded, "later."


	2. Chapter 2

Work was productive enough, Buffy spoke with several students about their inability to keep awake during class, not mentioning the irony of that having been one of her specialties as a student.

During her down time, she pulled out Davie Smith's file. Buffy read through all of the pages carefully, searching for any clue that he wasn't a perfectly normal, legitimate high schooler. Her results came up blank, which she considered a good thing, even though she still worried about Dawn dating, just in general really, not with Davie Smith specifically.

The morning's antics and work had kept Spike at bay from her thoughts. But as 2:30pm drew closer, Buffy found her gaze flickering towards the floor. One floor down, Spike was probably talking to himself, scratching at his chest . . . Her skin crawled.

Buffy looked out her office windows, everyone seemed nicely occupied and unlikely to disturb her. Hoping that Willow wasn't in class, she called Will's cell phone. She picked up on the fifth ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's me."

"Oh, Buffy! Is something wrong with Davie Smith?"

"No, he's actually rather alarmingly normal," she admitted.

"Hm. That's so strange for, well, any of us really. Who was the last normal person any of us dated?"

A concerningly long paused followed this question.

"Cordelia!" Buffy blurted out triumphantly. "Xander and Cordy dated in high school. She was egotistical, but otherwise, as boringly human as you can get."

"Right! Of course!" Willow breathed a sigh of relief. "So we can definitely figure out how to help Dawn in her normal dating ventures. Four years isn't that long ago . . ."

They fell silent again, until Willow asked, "So what were you calling about?"

Buffy's heart rate accelerated. "Uhm, the other thing we were talking about this morning."

"Spike?" It was barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah."

"How do you know he has his soul back? Because, I mean, we both know his word isn't all that hallowed."

Buffy twisted the phone cord around her finger. "It's partly why he's been acting so bizarre. When Angel came back, he was all twisted up as well. I think Spike is going over all of the sins of his past and it's making him crazy. Then there was also the fact that he tried to dig his soul out of his chest."

"Yikes. I hate to say this, because I mean he is still Spike which means he is still evil, but, is he alright?"

Buffy sighed. "I don't know. I mean, I didn't exactly stick around to find out last night when he told me. Honestly, his confession totally freaked me out and I took my first chance to exit. I don't even know where he is now for sure. I assume he is back in the basement since that's where he's been making his home since he got back."

"I don't blame you. I'm freaked out too. Like really freaky freaked out. Spike with a soul. Ew."

"Pretty much. There he was, confessing his soul and his wrongs to me and all I kept thinking was you tried to rape me. When I was with you I hated myself. You're an evil person. And then he's draping himself over the cross begging me to let him rest and I don't know. I couldn't just let him suffer."

"I know we didn't necessarily support you when Angel came back, but if you want me to support you with this Spike thing, this time I will."

Buffy ran a hand through her hair. "Thanks, but I'm not sure what I want to do yet. I might check in on him after school. Do you think that's a bad idea?"

"No! It's not. Unless, you think it is . . ."

The clock ticked ever nearer to 2:30pm. "I don't know what I think."

"What do you feel?"

"Like I should check on him," Buffy admitted with a certain amount of sadness.

"Okay. Then you check on him. Tonight we can make a better plan, with lots of planning and lists, and charts, and stuff."

A smile fluttered across her lips. "Thanks, Will."

"Of course. What are best friends for?"

They hung up. It was 2:27pm. Already Buffy could hear the chaos of classes letting out early and students beating it toward the exits. She was momentarily jealous of the simplicity of their lives until she remembered her own high school days, all filled with turmoil and heartache.

"No, thanks," Buffy said, standing up. She smoothed down her pants then set about packing up her satchel. When the clock struck 2:30pm, she walked out of her office, locking the door behind her.

Buffy met Dawn by her locker, only after she gave Buffy the decided upon welcoming nod. Dawn had directed Buffy not to interfere in her high school life, mortify her in anyway, or disrupt the high school life she had before Buffy became a guidance counselor. Buffy could perfectly understand Dawn's concern. Buffy was her Giles, which was horrifying enough without actually acting like Giles.

"Hey," Buffy said. "How did operation Davie Smith go?"

Dawn bent down, loading her backpack with the books she needed for homework. "Well, I said hi to him, and he acknowledged me. Then at lunch, my friends and I asked if we could sit with his crew, and he said yes. Then we ate without saying a word to each other."

"Oh, Dawn, I'm –"

She twirled around, glowing. "It was fantastic! I can't believe he knows my name. I mean, I know that we've had classes together for the past three years, but still, I mean he knows who I am! He was all like, 'Dawn Summers, sup.'" She swooned against her locker.

"Right!" Buffy said, covering her surprise. "Awesome."

"Isn't it?"

"So, Dawn. I need ten minutes before we go. I'll meet you at the car?"

"Sure. Maybe Davie is still here." Swinging her locker shut, she wandered off in the direction of the student lounge.

With her task before her, Buffy clenched her hands then released them. Casting a furtive look about, she headed to the doors to the basement, eased them open, and slipped down the stairs. It was as dank and musty as it had been last time, though hopefully minus the evil spirits. Her nose wrinkled at the smell.

"Spike?" she called out, looking all around her.

Buffy didn't hear anything as she traveled farther into the dirty interior. "Spike?"

Following the path she had taken when the demonic spirits chased her, Buffy found herself before the door to the furnace where she had seen Spike. "Hello? Spike?"

Annoyance was starting to overtake Buffy's concern. If she was just wasting her time down here, calling out to no one, she was going to feel like an idiot. "Spike?" she called more sharply.

A hand clamped around her ankle. Immediately, Buffy swung her left leg around, kicking in the direction of the hand. With a shout, the hand released her. She looked down, her fists at the ready, and saw Spike huddled up, one hand at his ribs.

"God! Spike, what is wrong with you? I wouldn't have kicked you if you would have just answered me," Buffy groused, displeasure covering her anxiety.

"Pretty girl kicks Spike. Spike is nothing more than dirt beneath her feet," he murmured rapidly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Her insides squeezed. She knelt beside him. "Spike. You've got to get out of here."

His blue eyes shot to her green ones. "I belong here. With the dirt. The mice."

"This place is making you crazy. Crazier, at least."

He turned his face from her. "Crazy. William's crazy. Useless, stupid William."

"Spike," Buffy clamped her hands down on his shoulders.

He froze at her touch, his head whipping back around. "Touching me. Buffy is touching me."

She dropped her hands, unnerved. "Come on, Spike. Dawn is waiting for me. You need to start making sense."

"Dirty Spike. Down with the rats. Where is Dru now?" His hands covered the opposite shoulders, he's rocking grew faster.

Buffy rubbed her temple in frustration. "I'll come back later, okay? We'll get you out of here. I'm sure there is a nice crypt or someplace else dark and dank you can stay."

"Poor Dru, so lost. So lost."

Gritting her teeth, Buffy turned on Spike, leaving him to his rats and memories of Dru. Her heels clattered on her hasty ascent up the stairs. Coming out of the basement door, Buffy almost collided with Principal Wood.

"Whoa!" he said, steadying her.

"I'm so sorry," Buffy apologized nervously. He glanced from her to the basement. "I was just – looking for things to recycle!"

"Oh." Both of his dark eyebrows rose.

She winced. "Yes. That's me, Super Recycler Summers!"

"Well . . . That's very nice. I'm sure more people wished they were like you. Good afternoon." He released her forearms and headed to his office.

Her shoulders sagged. "Super Recycler Summers. Could I sound like more of a dork?"

* * *

"Recycling is good for the environment though," Willow said supportively after Buffy had told her the story twenty minutes later.

Dawn had headed straight up stairs after getting home to do her homework. This was the deal so that when her homework was done she could go to the Bronze. It was strange to think that Buffy's high school had burned down and been rebuilt, yet the Bronze, which had suffered much damage during her time in Sunnydale,was still standing.

"Yes. I'm sure he was impressed with my lurking around the basement looking for forgotten tin cans and plastic bottles." Buffy opened the fridge and pulled out a Coke.

"Was that all you found in the basement?" Willow cocked her head.

Buffy glanced behind her at the stairs. Dawn wasn't in sight. "I found one crazy occupant with a soul."

"And?"

"I can't leave him down there. It's not humane. It's gross and dirty and . . . okay that sounds a lot like all the other places he's lived but I mean it's the Hellmouth. Nesting over the Hellmouth is so –"

"Beyond disturbing, I agree. So what's your plan?"

Buffy took a long drink of coke. "I'm going back for him tomorrow night. Try to convince him he needs to be somewhere other than, well, the high school basement."

"I can come with you, you know, if you like," Willow offered.

Buffy glanced at her. "You don't have to do that."

She tugged on the sleeves of her shirt. "I don't think you should be alone with him. I mean, he's still a vampire and he still," she looked down.

"Yeah, I know." Buffy took another drink, mulling things over. "Thanks, Will."

She gave Buffy a half smile. "Of course."

"Okay. We'll go tomorrow night. If Dawn doesn't have Bronze plans, We'll send her out for something . . . at the Magic Box that is sure to make Anya tell one of her really long stories."

"Oh! Oh! We should send Dawn for a defense spell against bunnies!"

Buffy nodded. "You are so wise, Willow."

She grinned. "Well, you know, I'm the brainy type."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So this is where the plot starts to deviate from the show and I get to explore all of the things I thought were awesome in the show but never amounted to much.

* * *

After a highly uneventful work day, with Buffy being extra obvious about picking up every plastic bottle and metal can in sight for Principal Wood to see her recycle, Willow and Buffy were in prep mode. They hadn't had to resort to bunny spells, Davie Smith told Dawn he was going to the Bronze that night. Dawn left promptly at 7pm with a strict order to be home by 10pm. It was a school night after all.

Buffy was dressed in her oldest blue jeans, a black hoodie, combat boots, with a stake in her back pocket, her battle gear to be exact. There was no need to not be cautious. As Willow had said, Spike was still a vampire. Willow wore her tough girl clothes, black pants and a blue billowing shirt; big wooden cross in hand. She really was meant to don the witchy garb, billowing looked ridiculously classic on her.

At 7:10pm they headed out the door, leaving Andrew locked tight in his room.

"What if you see someone you know?" Willow asked as she parked outside the high school.

"I forgot some very important papers in my office." Buffy had concocted the lie after many thrown out ones such as forgetting her favorite book, her coffee mug, her jacket, etc. She felt kind of guilty about breaking into the school now that she was a counselor instead of a student which had her flustered when it came to her lying skills.

"Very believable. We could even say it was Davie Smith's file."

Willow's attempt at humor went right over her. "Do you think Xander will be mad that we didn't invite him along?"

"Seeing as he hates Spike, not so much. But you do have to tell him tonight about the whole soul thing. And probably Dawn too. She hates being left out because she is the youngest."

"Xander won't be happy."

"I don't think any of us are, particularly."

"Not even Spike."

Buffy twisted her keys in door of the high school and in they went. They headed straight for the basement as there wasn't anywhere else to go. Buffy hesitated before opening the door. "You don't have to come, Will, if you'd rather not."

Willow reached for the knob, turning it. "Let's go."

Twenty steps later, they reached the basement. They peered around in the orange light that permeated the gloom. "Where do you think he is?" Willow whispered, clenching the cross in her hands.

Buffy shrugged. "He was by the furnace earlier." Moving her hand to her back pocket so that she could feel the stake beneath her fingers, Buffy ventured forward. "Spike, where are you?"

"Spike?" called Willow hesitantly.

No reply. "Why is he always such a pain?" Buffy could feel her forehead creasing in irritation.

"Should we split up?"

"No. He may have his soul back, but I wouldn't exactly cross him off my deranged vampire list. You remember Drusilla. Picture Drusilla with a soul. That's what we're dealing with." Buffy crooked her arm through Willow's elbow to ensure that they weren't separated.

"Drusilla? That's not a pretty picture. The dolls." Willow shivered. "They were a bit too terrifyingly creepy for me."

They were making their way slowly to the furnace, checking every corridor as they went past them.

"Spike?"

"I feel that this basement is hardly an improvement upon the burned down ruined school that we also used to spend time in the basement of," Willow said.

"Well, at least there is no crack in the floor leading to the Hellmouth. That seems like a better interior design idea."

"And there is electricity, another plus. Although, I did enjoy using my light of the sun spell."

"Sun spell and Hellmouth don't really seem two things that are, you know, mixy," Buffy remarked.

"Spike?" Willow called.

They finally reached the furnace room. Looking around them, Buffy and Willow didn't see anything to suggest that Spike had been there. Although, as a vampire, he didn't exactly leave a super obvious trace unless he was nesting. God. Buffy hoped he wasn't nesting over the Hellmouth. Too weird.

"Ready?" asked Willow.

"Here's the plan. You stay by the door, and I'll go in. If something goes wonky, you use the cross to protect yourself, or just stake him. A killer is a killer, with or without a soul and it's not exactly like he can go to court, or anything," Buffy directed.

"Got it. If I sense impending death, I kill him first . . ." They looked at each other. "Doesn't sound super friendly of us."

Buffy sighed. "Then just fend him off with the cross."

"Sounds better." Willow nodded.

"Okay, here we go." She pulled open the door to the furnace room. "Spi- Spike!"

Buffy's stake clattered to the ground as she raced into the depths of the room. Spike was lying on his back, his skin still baring faint marks of the burning cross. But over his left breast, deep gashes were oozing his borrowed red blood all down his bare chest.

"Oh no!" Willow gasped. His entire chest was smeared with red, the floor beneath him strangely dark.

Buffy dropped down beside Spike, knowing that he probably wasn't going to die from his latest wound, but knowing that it hurt him greatly all the same. One of his black shirts was discarded beside him, she grabbed it, balling it up and using it to apply pressure to his wound.

Spike eyes were closed and he wasn't breathing which meant if he wasn't dead, he also wasn't conscious.

"Spike? Spike!" Bufy gripped his shoulder with her left hand.

"Is he – is he -?"

"No! He's just stupid." She blinked rapidly, trying desperately to ignore the clouding of her vision. "Spike!" she shouted.

He didn't respond. Her eyes darted to the dark stains on the floor around them. It was blood, pools of it. His wounds were far worse than she had thought.

"What should we?" Willow asked, her voice trembling.

"Blood! He needs blood. Find some."

Willow ran off to heed her words, leaving Buffy with the barely clinging to his undead life Spike. Buffy pressed the already soaked shirt harder against the cuts, struggling to force the blood to stop pouring out. Anxiety made her strength even stronger. Thankfully, vampires are equal strong so whereas Buffy would have bruised one of her friends, Spike was utterly unaffected.

"Spike! Spike, wake up!" Her voice was shrill. "Stop it! Wake up!"

No response. Buffy was actually starting to panic. What if he was already dead? Could a vampire bleed out? Would they still go poof into dust if they bleed out?

"You bastard! You come back with a soul only to die? After everything you've done to me! – Of everything you've done to me, this is the worst! How could you?"

Hot tears splattered on her hand, dripping down to mix with the blood. "Spike!" She slapped him hard across his cheek bone, so angular they could have cut ice.

Horrified at her action, Buffy crumpled, her body curling protectively over his, as the tears gave way to sobs. Everything was such a mess. Her hand relaxed its pressure on the shirt. What was the point? He was bleeding out, but he was already gone.

With blurry vision, Buffy saw his stupid bleached hair unkempt in tiny ringlets. His skin frozen, not that he was ever warm, but room temperature was preferable to morgue cold. If he died like this, there would be so much left unsaid. The anger and fear Buffy held over what he had done to her, of how he had touched her, she would never get to heal that. She would never get to apologize for how she had treated him, because no matter what she said to herself, there wasn't any excuse big enough to make what she did alright.

Buffy would never be able to reconcile the man to the monster. The demon who went to get his soul, for her. Because he loved her, in his own demented and evil way, he had loved her. She wouldn't be able to sort out her own confused feelings, the fact that he knew her better than anyone ever had, that he was closer to the walls she had built around herself than even Angel had been. That he had, somehow, worked his way in.

No. It couldn't end like this.

Buffy pulled back from him, reapplying the pressure. "Willow! Willow, please hurry."

Using her left hand, Buffy wiped away the water from her cheeks, sniffling to contain the crying. "You're going to be okay," she told the unconscious vampire beneath her. "And when you are, I'm going to beat you up properly."

The hoarest chuckle sputtered from his chest, ending in a cough. Buffy's heart rate went into double time.

"Spike?"

Excruciatingly slowly, he opened his eyes. "You – should – have – knocked."

"Spike," Buffy breathed, her eyes running over his face. "What the hell were you thinking? You could have died! You still could!"

He closed his eyes again, dragging in a ragged breath.

"Spike!"

He opened one eye.

"You stupid jerk!" And she was crying again. Buffy turned her head away so that he wouldn't see. It was bad enough that she was straddling his waist, her shirt marred with his blood, one hand pressing the shirt to the gashes in his chest.

Cold skin ran up her left hand, to her wrist. He squeezed weakly in what Buffy took to be meant as a comforting manner.

She looked back down at him. "When I'm done saving your life, I'll kill you myself."

The right corner of his mouth tugged up in the vaguest attempt of a smile.

"Buffy!" Willow's shout was the most welcomed sound to Buffy's ears. She came racing through the door, bags of blood in her hands and bulging from her coat pockets. She tossed one to Buffy.

Catching it, Buffy bit into it, ripping open the plastic. She pressed the leaking bag against his mouth, Spike began to drink feebly. The taste of blood was bitter and sweet in her mouth, an unpleasant taste, but one she could deal with.

Spike drained the first bag in under a minute. By then, Willow was standing next to her, hand out stretched with the next bag. Buffy tossed the empty one to the side, repeating the opening process on the new bag. This time, Spike drank more greedily, his energy clearly returning, albeit slowly.

By the third bag, Spike could bite it open himself, and with the fourth, he reached up to hold it. Buffy got up shakily, stepping to the right of his body so that she could continue to staunch the bleeding until he started to heal. Spike's blue eyes were open, fixated on her.

Buffy looked up uncomfortably at Willow, she was watching their exchange with wariness. It was etched across Willow's eyebrows and by the tilt of her mouth. "I only have six bags, will that be enough?"

"It will have to be," Buffy said.

Spike tossed the empty bag aside, lifting his hand for the next; Willow gave it to him gingerly, avoiding touching him. Cautiously, Buffy lifted the corner of the t-shirt. The bleeding had slowed considerably, now it was merely trickling from the three cuts. Each was five inches long and at least two inches deep.

"We're going to need to bandage you up," Buffy said, not looking at him.

Spike didn't answer, simply finished the bag and took the last one. The shirt in Buffy's hand was entirely soaked through with blood. She tossed it into the corner of the room. Her eyes ran over the filthy floor until they found a heap of discarded clothing. She crossed to the pile, seizing the first shirt she saw. Holding it up, Buffy ripped it cleanly in half.

"Can you stand?" she asked Spike.

Sluggishly, Spike pushed himself up with his hands until he was propped against the back wall. He looked at her expectantly. "That was my good shirt." His voice was rough as sand paper.

Buffy scowled at him. "And now it's a bandage. Willow," she looked over at her, "I need you to brace his shoulders so that I can wrap the bandage around him. Just keep your neck clear of his teeth."

Spike frowned. "You know I wouldn't."

"No. I don't know that."

Willow reached her arms out in front of her, placing her hands against his shoulders, so that Spike could lean into them. She leaned to the far left, keeping herself a safe distance from him. Buffy stepped beside Spike, taking the half shirt and wrapping it around his chest.

One shirt wasn't enough, two shirts were need to be an effective bandage."Done."

Willow's hands fell from Spike shoulders and she stepped clear of him.

"Let's go," Buffy said. Willow looked from her to Spike. "You," Buffy clarified, "are coming with us, Spike. This basement is making you crazy. You can't stay here."

He pressed his hand to his chest and she saw that his normally chipped black nails were clear of any polish. "I don't have anywhere else to go."

Her lips creased. "Anywhere is better than here. We'll clear out a crypt for you."

"Or you could stay with Xander!" Willow nominated. "He could, you know, keep an eye on Spike until we know that he's not . . ."

"Crazy?" Spike asked, non-pulsed.

"Well, yeah."

Buffy frowned. "Do you think Xander would be okay with that? He didn't like having Spike there before."

"But he did it. He'll do it again, if you need him to."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, or reviewed =]]

* * *

"No. No way. He is not staying here!" Xander gestured violently with his hands.

Buffy's hand went to her hip. "Xander, please. He needs to stay somewhere that we can keep tabs on him. Willow, Dawn, and I, not to mention Andrew, are all living at my house. No one's really on great terms with Anya right now. Please, can you do this for me?"

His shoulders sagged. "He can't touch anything. I'll put him in the spare room, which, I'll have you know, Buster, is really an old closet."

Spike motioned to the doorway. "Invite me in then."

Xander grimaced. "I hardly invite you in."

Spike blinked. "I'll be heading back to the school." He started to turn, Buffy's hand shot out, grabbing onto his forearm, steeling him in place.

"No. Xander, I need you to do this for me."

"Fine. Come in, Spike." His tone was like ice.

"Thank you," she said, quickly retracting her hand from Spike's skin.

Spike stepped through the doorway. "Thanks."

"The room is that door there, don't touch anything!"

Spike walked straight to the room and shut the door behind him.

The three friends stood in a circle, each sharing uncertain looks. Finally, Xander said, "What is he doing here, Buffy? You know what he did. I will stake him here, for you."

She shook her head. "We can't do that."

"Why not? Spike is an evil thing! A demon."

"Well," Willow said suggestively. "Not exactly."

"What are you talking about?"

"Spike. He has a soul now," Buffy said.

"A soul? Like what? That was his Happy Meal prize?" Xander stared at them as if they were crazy.

"I don't know how he got it. But he has one. And until we know what that means, we can't do anything rash. I haven't forgotten what he has done. That means I haven't forgotten the bad that he's done or the good. So please, tell me that you understand."

"I don't." Xander crossed his arms. "But you are my friend and I trust you. If you want me to leave the would-be blood sucker undead, I will."

"Thank you, Xander."

He clapped a hand on Buffy's shoulder, then got a good look at her shirt. "Ew and you're welcome. You should probably go home and change, you are covered in people's blood."

She laughed weakly. "Thanks for the fashion advice."

* * *

Buffy and Willow had gotten home later than expected. It was 10:30pm. After locking the door behind them, Buffy headed upstairs to Dawn's room. To Buffy's great relief, Dawn was on her bed, writing dutifully in her diary. Buffy popped her head in, making sure her clothes weren't visible. "I'm going to take a shower, okay?"

"Yep."

Fifteen minutes later, with dripping wet hair, and freshly scrubbed skin, all done up in her favorite jammies, Buffy entered Dawn's room. Willow followed her in.

"Hey," Buffy said.

Dawn looked up, folding her legs beneath her. "Hey. I gave Andrew some Ramen, he was whining up a storm when I got back that no one had fed him."

"Oh!" Willow gasped. "I completely forgot! He wasn't murmuring to himself when we left so I just didn't think about him . . . we are not very good caretakers."

"More like kidnappers of post-evil villains," Dawn corrected, "but anyway, what's up?"

Willow took the seat by the closet. Buffy sat down on the edge of Dawn's bed. "We kind of need to talk."

"Oh my god!" Dawn said, her eyes wide. "How do you know that I kissed Davie? Were you spying on me or something? Because that is seriously lame, even for you!"

"Whoa," Buffy held up her hands. "Chill. It's not about Davie, although, I'm going to hope that it was a no tongue kiss."

"Oh." She settled back down. "Right. And, it was, the kiss I mean."

"Good."

"So what did you want to talk about?"

Willow shot Buffy a supportive glance. "You know that Spike is back."

"Yes."

"Well, he's back with a soul."

Dawn frowned. "What?"

"Like Angel. He got his soul back somehow."

"Angel was cursed with a soul, he didn't just fish it out of a pond or something," said Dawn incredulously.

"The point is, Spike has his back. So, he's staying at Xander's for a while."

"Why?" She crossed her arms tightly. "Having a soul doesn't make him good."

"Maybe not, but it changes things. We need to figure that out."

"This is what you want?"

Buffy looked over at Willow, she nodded her along. "Yes. I want to figure things out."

"Fine. But if he hurts you, I will stake him. Soul or no soul."

Buffy held out her arms, and Dawn leaned in to the hug. "Thank you." She kissed her temple.

* * *

After a mug of hot chocolate each, Willow sat crossed legged on Buffy's bed, her hands fidgeting as they talked. "So what are you going to do?"

Buffy leaned back against the pillows. "I don't know. It's such a mess. Maybe I should have left him down there."

"You couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because you care about people. That's your job. And with a soul, Spike isn't just a demon, he's a person."

Buffy groaned. "You make it sound so nice and reasonable."

She smiled. "Magic isn't all about spells and charms. I was a stellar student of logic long before that."

"How could I forget?" Buffy joked. "How long do you think Xander will be able to put up with him?"

Willow cocked her head. "Hm. I'd say about a week. I mean, their antagonism goes pretty far back."

"A week?" Buffy perked up. "That could work. We could find him a vacant crypt. And by then we should know if he's dangerous or not."

"Do you think his soul deactivated the chip?"

"I don't know. But it's a chance I'm not really interested in taking."

"Okay," Willow sat up straighter. "First we find out if he is going to rip out the throat of the nearest human, then we find him a nice dirty crypt."

"Right." Buffy rubbed her temples.

Willow patted her leg. "Don't worry. It will get better. We have a plan and when have our plans ever failed?"

Their eyes locked. They broke down laughing.

When they had recovered from their giddy skit, Will said, "Can I ask you, why?"

Buffy features pulled down in a frown. "I don't know. I mean, it's not like you could ever say the good he has done outweighs the evil. Three years ago he was trying to kill me on our campus. Then he tried to eat you on his quest to kill me another time. Then he tried to sell us to Adam." She shook her head.

"But when you were together?" Willow pulled Mr. Gordo to her, watching Buffy with her full worried eyes.

Buffy's frown deepened. "I wouldn't exactly say that we were together. And even then. It was never like I loved him. I was so busy hating myself, I'm not sure I had any emotions left over for the people around me. But . . . but he was there for me when absolutely nothing made sense, and that meant, means, a lot to me. It's why I broke things off, because evil as he was, he still didn't deserve to be used like that."

"And the part that came after?"

The cheerful pink of Buffy's walls, the New Kids on the Block poster, Mr. Gordo, all of these sweet fanciful things stood in ugly contrast to their subject matter. It turned her stomach. "He's – he was a demon without a soul. I was stupid to forget that."

"You were stupid?" Willow's eyes widened.

"I'm not saying what he did was okay or acceptable, but why did it surprise me? When did I forget that he was an evil soulless thing who I had hurt? Of course he was going to take vengeance. That's what demon's do. It's the fact that he didn't which should really be surprising." Buffy brushed her hand against her cheek, where trails of betraying tears had slipped past.

Willow crawled up the bed next to her. She rested her head on Buffy's shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Through her sniffling, Buffy laughed. "I can't quite agree. Sleeping with Spike definitely falls on my list of dumber things I've done."

She wrapped her arm around Buffy's shoulders. "At least you didn't try to end the world."

Buffy laughed harder. "You weren't exactly yourself that day."

"No. But it's something I have to live with for the rest of my life. How I endangered everyone I loved for revenge. How I killed people, tore my soul apart. How I disappointed Tara."

"She loved you, Willow. She would have forgiven you."

"And I think Spike loved you too."

Buffy pulled back. "How did we get back to him?"

"Because you said he didn't. He could have, but he stopped. I think that's part of this."

Buffy felt dirty again. The effect of Willow's words triggered something in Buffy's soul that she didn't want to look at. Didn't want to deal with.

"Spike could have over powered you. You fought him off, but he stopped too." Willow's brow puckered with unpleasant truths. "He's not your everyday demon. I'm not saying what he did wasn't evil, because it was. I just think, maybe, you realize the other part too. The part where he stopped because maybe he wasn't entirely evil."


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy called in sick to work the next day. Willow drove Dawn to school since they all agreed it would look pretty conspicuous if Buffy was able bodied enough to drive but not to guide students. Xander had work all day, so she headed over to his place to get to work on Operation Spike.

She knocked lightly on the door, bobbing on her toes. Buffy's right hand was clenched around a smashed packet of cigarettes, buried deep in the depths of her jacket pocket. The lighter was in her pants pocket. Kind of a bizarre peace offering.

Spike pulled open the door, hanging back slightly, his cut eyebrow lifting up in question.

"Can I?" She nodded toward the apartment.

He stepped back allowing her to enter.

They stood awkwardly far apart, sizing each other up. His hair was slicked back today, he was dressed in his usual garb of black jeans and t-shirt. The shirt stuck out around his upper chest where the impromptu bandaged had been.

Buffy pulled out the crumpled cigarette pack and shoved it toward him. "Here."

He accepted the cigarettes, giving her a curious look. She quickly got the lighter from her jeans' pocket and handed that over as well. He opened the pack, selected at cigarette and placed it between his lips. Flicking the lighter, he lit the tip.

Exhaling a line of smoke, he said, "Thanks."

"I thought you might be having Nicotine cravings."

"Kind of been more preoccupied with the bleeding chest." He poked the area in question, wincing.

The door still loomed open behind them. Buffy reached behind her, pushing it close to let Spike know she was staying.

Taking a drag, he said, "Want to sit down? In my closet? Since I'm not supposed to touch anything of Xander's."

Buffy bobbed her head. He led the way to his room. It had a bed and night stand. That's all that would really fit. She eyed the bed with heavy trepidation, her mind filling with ugly images of them. "I'll stand."

Spike cracked the window, the shades were pulled and he was quick about it; he had never considered the sun more than an annoying inconvenience. "Suit yourself."

They stood in silence.

"So," Spike said, stamping out the cigarette.

She gritted her teeth, ready to plunge in, glad that Spike's sanity seemed to have returned. "How did you get your soul back?"

He ran a hand over his hair. "I went to a demon, made a deal, and got my soul."

Buffy's eyebrow rose skeptically. "So you said please, and he just handed it over?"

Spike snorted in derision. "Not quite so simple, Slayer. The deal was, I survive the demon trials and I get my soul back."

"What were the demon trials?"

"Painful. Endless days of fighting any demon he chose to throw at me. A lot worse than the torture Glory put me through."

Buffy's hands curled into fists, her finger nails biting into the skin on her palms. He was telling her the truth and it wasn't making her feel better. It made her more apprehensive than ever. "Was it worth it?"

He licked his bottom lip. "I haven't really come to a conclusion on that yet."

"How's your chest?"

His fingers brushed gently over it. "Healing."

"What were you trying to do?"

His eyes slowly lifted to hers. "Trying to dig it out, of course."

"Your soul?"

"Anything else you know remind you of the worst things you've ever done until you're on the brink of insanity with guilt and grief and remorse?"

"You almost died."

He sighed, his arms crossing over his waist. "And that would have been a problem, why?"

"Fine. Next time I won't save you."

"Why did you?"

The question hung uncomfortably between them. Finally, Buffy sat down on the edge of the mattress. Spike leaned casually against the wall, watching her intently. "In case you haven't noticed, I've never been particularly inclined to killing you or letting you get killed."

"We both know that isn't out of love. So again, why?"

She had been hoping they could leave the heart-to-heart for some time in the distant future, or, preferably, never. Buffy squared her shoulders, the same stance she took when preparing for a fight. And suddenly she was back again, wanting to punch it out with Spike. Feel his fists hitting her body, as she hit his, working out everything that went unsaid between them in the most brutal way.

Spike must have noticed that change in her posture, because he held his hands up in defense. "I'm not going to fight you, Buffy."

Her eyes flashed. "I don't kill you because I don't mind having you around. You know you're the only one as strong as me. I've always had a second. I had Angel, I had Riley, and now I have you. It's not an option for me to go it alone when I have to look out for my friends. So you are alive."

He was unimpressed. He took out another cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his wrist. "Is that what you tell the Scoobies? I'm here for convenience?"

Tension flared in Buffy's muscles. Hadn't she told Spike exactly that? She slept with him only because it was convenient? "Yes."

"Right," he spit the word out with his smoke. "And when I'm inconvenient? When I'm –"

"Don't!" Buffy jumped up.

Spike shoved his left hand in his jeans pocket, turning away from her.

"This was a mistake," she said, more to herself than to him. "I shouldn't have come."

"Buffy."

She moved toward the door.

"Buffy, I'm-"

"Don't. Don't say you're sorry. That's not something you can apologize for, Spike." Her fingers trembled on the door handle, Buffy knew if she wasn't careful, she would yank it free of the door.

He didn't stop her when she opened the door. He didn't stop her when she went to the front door. He didn't stop her when she opened the front door.

Buffy stepped into the hallway, feeling as if she had escaped confinement. Finally, she was able to breathe freely again.

"I understand now."

His words stopped her better than any physical force.

"You understand what?" she asked darkly, not bothering to turn around.

"I understand that you were using me. You didn't love me. You told me enough times, but it wasn't until I got my soul back that I finally understood. You didn't sleep with me because you loved me, you slept with me and it killed you, you were punishing yourself for not feeling the way your friends wanted you to. You were punishing me too for loving you when all you wanted was to be punished. I understand now."

Turning abruptly, Buffy looked up at him. "I ended things because you were my friend. No matter what I did, you always wanted me. Even when I hated you, I trusted you to be there for me. And you destroyed that."

They stood there, staring at each other.

"I'll leave Sunnydale, if you want me to. I know I never did before, but now, I can, I will."

"Where would you go?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"You're free to do what you want." A strange sensation of icy apprehension settled over her.

"I'm asking you, Buffy. What do you want me to do?"

She reached forward, her fingertips brushing his bandage lump. "Did you redress it?"

"Well, I couldn't exactly ask Xander for his help, now could I?" The glint that Buffy associated with his eyes sparkled.

"You two aren't bonding? The camaraderie of sharing an apartment?"

"We didn't bond in the basement. I doubt a floor level unit could improve that, especially since all he has to do is tweak the blinds and I go up in a puff of dust."

"Black paint? That's your color of choice, right?"

"Can you imagine how fast the boy would stake me if I painted his precious windows black? I thought you didn't want me dead, Slayer."

Buffy was alarmingly close to smiling, she bit her lip to keep from doing so. "Your nails are looking . . . normal. Should I have picked up black nail polish instead of the cigarettes?"

He glanced down at his hands, examining them as if for the first time. "I might be getting a bit old for the paint and all."

"Old? That's a relative term. Besides, I've always identified you with black paint. You don't want to be going all Angel, do you?" The light banter was almost worse than brutal honesty, it put their relationship in a false light, but Buffy couldn't seem to stop herself. It was so much easier.

"Bloody Angel." Spike shook his head. "Oh wow, a gypsy cursed me with a soul. What a git. I'm sure that was so bleeding hard for him."

"How old are you Spike? I don't mean centuries."

His eyes moved past her. "How old? I was twenty-eight when I died and was reborn."

"Six years. Wow. I think in six years I'll be just as opposed to living forever as I am now."

"Life hasn't exactly been a cake walk for you, Pet." They both winced at the endearment. "I was never really living until I was dead."

"Come patrolling with me tomorrow night." It wasn't a request.

Cigarette in hand, he ran his tongue over his bottom teeth. "Not sure I should be out there."

"Why?"

He tapped his head. "Can't be sure of what's going on in my noggin."

"You didn't eat Xander last night."

"I wouldn't have eaten him before the chip. He's not the nummy treat he seems to think he is."

"You didn't bite Willow."

"I had six pints of blood. I wasn't precisely hungry."

"And that stopped you before?" Buffy asked critically, knowing that William the Bloody didn't bother himself with frivolous details such as hunger.

"Bloody hell, Buffy. Do you want me out there eating people?" He laughed harshly. "I get my soul back just for you to egg me into sucking people dry?"

"No. I want you out there because I believe in you. I believe in your soul." It was a white lie so she told her conscious to stop twinging. Her conscious chose not to listen.

His gaze snapped to hers.

"After sundown, meet her at the cemetery." Buffy started to leave, then paused. "I'll bring the nail polish."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: For those of you who have been following along, I've switched from first person to third person narration since it is better suited to the story. Thanks so much to everyone who has read, favorited, followed, and especially reviewed! You are all awesome!

* * *

Buffy was perched on her favorite grave, surveying the cemetery. The grave belonged to one Edward Hanes who had died in 1906. Now, his tree stump styled grave gave her the perfect view of the cemetery to see if any of the undead were coming out to play. Of all the grave stones that had been destroyed in Buffy's six years in Sunnydale, she was forever grateful that this one was still standing. She tapped the stake in her right hand against the polished stone.

Her talk with Spike the day before hadn't really gotten her any farther in the whole what to do with Spike deliberation. Instead, it solidified things she thought it better not to think about. Why didn't she want him out of Sunnydale? Why was she willing to be alone with him after everything? It was all there, but Buffy didn't want to sift through to the answer.

She saw movement coming from the left bank of trees. Jumping lithely to her sneaker covered feet, Buffy crept to the edge of the trees, stake at the ready, harassing jib formulating.

A tall stretch of black parted the trees. A pair of blue eyes took in the stake, then her.

"I didn't think this was a deadly invitation," Spike said.

She dropped her hand. "Not for you at least."

"Unless I eat someone?"

"I don't think you will. Come on." Buffy headed back to Hanes' grave. Spike offered her his hand to give her a boost upward. After a moment's hesitation, Buffy accepted.

He jumped up next to her. "Still squatting on Edward Hanes?"

"I think he has proven to be far more helpful in death than in life. I'm sure he is grateful for our continued remembrance of him."

"Yes. I'm sure he always wanted to be someone's favorite place to sit in a place full of dead people."

"And undead. Maybe Edward hated vampires too and now he is sleeping peacefully as I use him to aid me in killing them."

"Right. Then I guess he wouldn't much care for me sitting up here." Spike made to jump down.

Buffy tried to think of the right thing to say. "You're not – I mean – You're not the evil kind of vampire anymore."

"Aren't I?" Spike raised his scarred eyebrow.

"You haven't bitten me, even with ample opportunities. That's pretty not evil of you." The ominous exception lay heavy between them.

Spike lunged toward her. The stake came up immediately, the tip pressing into the bandage on his chest. He leaned away slowly. "I'd say it was still up for debate."

Buffy laid the stake in her lap. "What are you doing, Spike? This thing that you're doing. This moping, what is that about?"

"Moping?" He looked up in insult. "I've killed hundreds of people, tortured more, and I enjoyed all of it. I tried to rape – no, I'm going to say it," he said when Buffy looked as if she might interrupt. "I tried to rape the only person I've loved more than myself. So yeah, I'm bloody well moping."

Heat tingled in Buffy's cheeks at his words. His causes for mopage were true. They should have made her angry, they should have made her sick. They did none of that. He was repentant, and that's all that seemed to matter, which scared her more than anything and Buffy prided herself on being a tough girl to scare.

Buffy chose to ignore the emotions in turmoil within her, going for the easiest response, the one that put the heat back on Spike. "So. By getting your soul, I get weak, mopy Spike instead of strong dangerous Spike?"

His brows crossed. "Do you even sodding hear yourself? You're trying to tell me that you'd rather have soulless Spike? The one you said was nothing but a monster? A soulless thing?"

Buffy arched her neck back, looking up at the pin cushion of stars above as she worked out the tension headache that this conversation was giving her. "I'm saying that you being all depressed doesn't help me. I've got big fights, fights I need help with. And you can't do anything more than mope about a past you can't change? How am I supposed to feel?"

Spike was clearly getting mad. It showed in his eyes and in his posture. "I go through hell to get a soul for you and now you treat me with scorn?" He leapt to the cemetery ground. "Bugger this."

"Spike." Buffy jumped down after him, catching the back of his horrible black duster. She hated that thing with more passion than she had hated any of her high school outfits.

"Nothing is good enough for you, Buffy. You're always out there searching for something that doesn't exist. No man is good enough for you. And anytime you are happy, you do your best to drive that man away. I thought I was a mess." He jabbed his finger into Buffy's chest, "You're the mess."

Her eyes lit up. "Tell me, Spike. What's wrong with me? You torture yourself, and I can barely stand to have you touch me? Your soul can't take away the taint that you left on me."

"I know that!" He shouted. "Bloody hell. Don't you think I know that?"

"You tried to rape me. You failed, but you tried." She was up in his face, making him look her in the eyes even when he didn't want to.

"What do you want me to say? I can't apologize. I can't undo my actions. I got my soul for you! I tried to make amends. And it doesn't matter to you! I'm still the dirt beneath your feet. I've always been dirt to you. Friends my ass. You never gave two sodding chips about me!" He was pacing in front of her, his hands jammed in the pockets of his duster.

"Yes. I always looked down on you. When you came for me the first time, in high school you almost killed me, but I won. And you ran. You didn't even have enough fight to finish me. Then you come back drunk and sobbing for Dru, oh yeah, that was impressive."

"I loved Dru!"

"And she loved you back, so much so, she left you for a Chaos demon. Impressive, Spike. A little blip with the Gem of Amora, you have all the power in your hand, I still beat you back."

"Shut up!"

"Or what? You'll kill me?"

He grabbed Buffy's shoulders and pushed her from him. She could see the war going on as he fought to keep himself in his human form. He just need a little more and he would break. With only the slightest hesitation, she went for the breaking point.

"Then you come back and get a chip in your head. You can't do anything. You're impotent. I didn't even have to bother with you. I could look the other way and nothing. I could rest my neck against your lips and nothing. You couldn't bite me if it killed you. And then, of all things, you fall in love with me! How pathetic, you know I couldn't care less about you and yet there you are, following after me with puppy eyes."

"I didn't want to love you!" He was panting now, his shoulders heaving up and down as everything in him sought to go feral. "Loving you was the worst thing that ever happened to me!"

"Show me," Buffy taunted, moving with him as he paced.

Her slayer sense heard the twigs crack behind her. Spike's attention swung past her, his nostrils flaring as he took in the new scent. To regain his attention, Buffy crowded in on his space, leaving him no room, just inches separating them. "Show me," she repeated.

His hands trembled. "No."

"Is there anything left of William the Bloody?" She moved closer, now able to smell his distinct mixture of leather, oak, and tobacco. A smell Buffy identified singularly with Spike.

They were close enough that she could whisper and he would still be able to hear her. "It was William the Bloody that I liked in bed, that made me scream, and you aren't even close –"

Spike grabbed Buffy's shoulders and threw her from him once more. She looked up from the ground to see his smooth features replaced by vampiric ones. She scrambled to her feet, ready to fight.

He growled at her. "Stay away."

She came at him, angling for an upper cut. He threw one first, Buffy dove to the right, rolling on the ground and coming back up. She kicked back with her leg, catching the back of his knee. He dropped, but his right hand snatched her ankle, bringing her down with him.

His hand moved up Buffy's leg, dragging her to him. Buffy rolled onto her side, and when his hand relaxed to move farther up, she twisted out of his reach, springing back to her feet. He kept pace, jumping up in front of her. Buffy threw a punch at his ribs, he dodged.

In the close shave fight that followed, Buffy led him backward, toward the place where the twig had snapped. It was obvious to her that neither one of them was trying too hard to hurt the other, but it was the fight instinct she wanted to arouse in him, that was all she needed.

Spike threw a punch; Buffy let his fist collide with her cheek, sending her to the ground. Buffy saw the self-disgust flickering in his eyes, before his features could soften again she shouted, "Now!"

Andrew stumbled forward. Spike's attention shifted from Buffy to the ready-made meal. He leapt over her. She pulled herself up, ready to intervene if it looked like Andrew was going to be made into a light snack. Spike tilted his head from left to right, taking the possible meal in.

"Well, well. Weren't you part of the gang that made Buffy invisible?" Spike asked, circling closer to Andrew.

"Ye-yes. But-but I'm reformed now. Like you," Andrew stuttered with blatant terror.

Spike chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. It was so dangerous, so evil, and despite herself, Buffy loved that sound, it sent tingles down her spine. "I'm not so sure about that."

She tensed to run. Spike grabbed Andrew by his shirt, reeling Andrew into him. He pressed his face to Andrew's neck. Buffy started to sprint, but before she reached them, Spike had thrown Andrew from him to the ground.

Spike glared at Buffy over his shoulder. "Did I pass the test?"

She was at Andrew's side, combing over him with her eyes for any injuries. Beyond being a blubbering mess, he was perfectly fine. Standing, Buffy swiped the dirt stains from her jeans. "You," she started to say, but when she looked around, Spike was gone.

Willow and Xander came out from the mausoleum they had been stationed behind, each with a weapon in their hands.

"So, was that the way this was supposed to end? Because I, for one, have to admit confusion. Did we want the blood sucking fiend running off on his own? Was I the only one who didn't see the chip causing him life ending pain?" Xander looked from Buffy to Willow.

Willow was attending Andrew, reassuring him that he had in fact not been bitten and wouldn't be turning into a vampire any time soon. Buffy rubbed her face. "He didn't seem to have a problem with the chip. Which means there is definitely a problem with the chip."

"But – but he also didn't eat Andrew. That's a good thing, right?" Willow said with her typically cautious optimism.

They all looked to Andrew. "Debatable," Buffy said.

"Hey!" Andrew gasped. "I'm reformed! I – I don't do evil super genius things anymore."

They ignored him. "I'll go see if I can find him," Buffy said.

"Probably a good idea, before he sinks his fangs into some innocent dog walker." Xander gave Buffy a look of disapproval.

She gazed across the cemetery. "The plan didn't go, well, according to plan, but I don't think he –"

"But you don't know," Xander interrupted. "For all we know, he didn't eat Andrew because he isn't into drinking pathetic would-be villains."

"Reformed would-be villains!" Andrew protested.

"Buffy will take care of it, Xander," Willow said with quiet conviction. "She always does, okay. Let's get Andrew back home." She turned to him, "I can make you hot chocolate if you want."

"Really?" Andrew asked, cheering up considerably.

"See you at home, Buff."

"See you." Buffy straightened her jacket and took off through the cemetery.


	7. Chapter 7

Buffy didn't bothering call out to Spike, she had no doubt he would refuse to answer. He wasn't a dog who would come when bidden. But she did have a good idea or two about where he might be. The first was the school, but since that was farther away, Buffy went with her second. His old crypt.

When Buffy came to it, she wrenched the door open. It was completely dark, but leather, oak, and tobacco guaranteed her that he was there in the darkness. She pulled the door closed behind her. Casting her eyes around the darkness, she saw the small red ember of his cigarette. She crossed to him.

Spike was standing against the far wall, one hand playing with his lighter while the other catered to his cigarette. "Have fun, Slayer?

"Spike." Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she found the old sarcophagus. Buffy hopped up on it, sitting across from him. It was less a casual gesture than one that ensured she would be able to stop him if he tried to leave.

"Was it good for you?" he asked, his tone hard.

"Do you want me to apologize for making sure you aren't a killer? You're going to be waiting a long time for that one, Spike."

"Is that what that was? A nice science experiment on good old Spike?" His laugh was harsh. "And I thought the Commandos had done a number on me. Now I see, no one compares to the torture that is Buffy Summers."

"So we're back to the pity party then? The crypt seems like a nice venue. All damp and weepy like you."

"Do you hear what you're saying? Bloody hell." Spike dashed the cigarette to the ground.

"Do you hear me, Spike? Because it seems like you're too busy crying over yourself to see that we have a big fight coming to us. I don't have time to hold your hand and promise you rainbows. If that's what you're looking for, you should leave Sunnydale."

"Hold my hand?" he asked, outraged. He advanced toward her, placing one hand on either side of Buffy, trapping her between the coffin and himself. "I'm looking for a little bloody forgiveness, Buffy. But that's not something you know how to give, is it? Every wrong that's ever been committed against you, you're going to be holding onto those until you meet the grave."

Buffy wasn't oblivious to the spark arching between them. She could feel it in her chest, aching painfully. "No, Spike. I'm not going to forgive you."

"Or Angel for leaving you. Or Riley for not being strong enough for you. Or Faith for letting her jealousy best her. Or Anya for being a demon. Or Giles for deserting you. Or –"

"Shut up."

He leaned back slightly, his lips curling into a vicious smile. "Hurts, doesn't it, Pet? Not so fun to be the one being examined."

"I'm not the one letting the past control me. I've moved on with my life."

"Oh right, Pet." He glared. "I should just forget all the people I murdered, I should forget how I enjoyed watching them die, how I killed for the rush of it, not for the need of blood. How I would keep the girls alive just to hear them scream when I really destroyed them. So easy to forget."

"I'm not saying you should forget, I'm saying you should let it go. If you really want to make amends, then help me defeat the things that are evil like you were."

Spike was silent for a moment and Buffy worried she had lost him, pushed him too far. But then he was back, eyes bright even in the dark. "I haven't killed anyone since I've been back . . . I just wanted you to know that," he said gruffly.

Buffy pressed her lips into a thin line, her heart twisting in her chest. "That's good, Spike. That's really good."

"Yeah, well, you could have asked before trying to sic me on Andrew." There was a bluster to his words, but the way his eyes were trained on Buffy belied the bravado.

Forcing a smile, she said, "How do you know I didn't want you to take out Andrew? He's even more annoying than you ever were."

Spike let out a dry laugh. "Somehow, Slayer, I don't see you playing judge and executioner for any of the living wankers."

Buffy shrugged, sliding down from the sarcophagus. "Things happen, people change."

He closed in on the space separating them, his mere proximity speeding up her pulse. She felt uncomfortable with his nearness but refused to bend to the ridiculous urge to step away. She was not afraid of Spike.

"So what's really going on, Buffy? Why all the talk about needing a more dangerous Spike?"

Although he wasn't as tall as Angel or Riley, Buffy still had to look up to meet his gaze. "While you were getting tortured for a soul, Andrew sacrificed Jonathon to try and resurrect Warren. He said that Warren's ghost came to him and told him to do it. Whatever's going on, Spike, I can feel it, and it scares me. Something big is coming, something very evil and very strong. Like a curtain cloaking the sun. It's there, but I can't see it, and it's getting stronger. I need you in the fight with me."

"Well then, guess my holiday is ending early, yeah?"

And that was it. She tells him there is most likely an apocalypse coming for them and he jokes. Soul or no soul, he was still Spike. Buffy did her absolute best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach and the tell-tale whosh of heat that flamed through her. But it was still there.

"You're such an idiot," she said, failing miserably to sound anything but borderline content.

"Think I'll take idiot over pig, thanks."

"Just shut up." She rolled her eyes, a wide smile gracing her features.

"And here I thought we were having a moment," he teased.

"We weren't," Buffy assured him flatly.

"You should get back, the Scoobies will be worried about you."

"I have to return with you, since Xander assumes you're out there, relieving people of their vital organs."

Spike snorted. "Of course he does, the twit."

"Right," she smirked at him, "because your track record is so clean."

* * *

Willow, Andrew, and Xander were waiting for them in the living room. Xander looked mad, Willow as if she were trying to keep the peace, and Andrew relieved that no one was yelling at him. Spike stood awkwardly by the front door, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his gaze fixated on something above any of their heads. Buffy cast a look over her shoulder at him, he nodded subtly.

Moving into the living room, she formed a circle with her friends and Andrew.

"Did you have trouble finding him?" Willow asked so as not to be overheard by Spike.

"It consisted more of trouble convincing him to come back here," Buffy whispered back.

"Because he almost ate me." Andrew nodded sagely to himself. "I can understand why such a nearly averted catastrophe would shake his fragile psyche."

They looked at him in irritation. "Yes, it's you, not the years of murder and torture that keeps him up at night, Andrew," Buffy retorted.

Xander eyed the blonde vampire. "Does this means I'm driving Captain Peroxide back with me tonight?"

"It won't be for much longer, I promise. He's going to go patrolling with me tomorrow and I hope I can get everything figure out then, okay?"

Xander bobbed his head. "Whatever gets me back to living alone faster is what I'm aiming for." He broke from the huddle, snagging his coat from the couch. "Come on, Bleach Boy, time to go."

Spike didn't say anything which left Buffy feeling really weird, because antagonism with Xander was one of his more pronounced personality features. Waving to them, Xander left, leaving the door open for Spike to follow. He did so, shooting Buffy one look over his shoulder. The look in his light blue eyes guaranteed her that if Xander hadn't been her friend, he would have been on Spike's dinner menu, soul be damned.

Buffy bit her lip, trying to glare, but Spike saw right through it. He smiled at her, a kind smile that brought the butterflies back to her stomach. That could not be good. Buffy did not want to have warm fuzzy feelings where Spike was concerned, but it seemed her heart thought otherwise.


	8. Chapter 8

"So?" Willow asked, her face the picture of eager curiosity. "How did things go last night? With Spike, I mean."

She and Buffy hadn't really gotten a chance to talk things over the night before what with Andrew going haywire with his night of freedom and Buffy more or less sneaking up to her room to have time to herself. Now they were cross legged on Willow's floor, as Buffy painted Willow's nails a very becoming shade of green while Dawn spent the evening at her friend Joanie's.

"Fine. It was fine. Uncomfortable, but . . ." Buffy dipped the cap back into the bottle preparing for Willow's next nail.

"Fine . . . okay . . . but if we were going to use more words. If we were going to explain in detail to our best friend how our talk with an ex-loverish vampire now with a soul went, we might use?"

Buffy lifted an eyebrow at her best friend in surprise. "You sound like you think there should be more to tell."

"Buffy. Please. There was major sparkage between the two of you last night. Sparkage that is either good or bad, so spill." Willow blew on the fingers of her left hand to speed their drying.

Buffy's cheeks burned at her assessment. "There was no sparkage. I don't spark with vampires."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Then there was crackling."

Buffy made a face. "Let's stop with the metaphors."

"Then tell me what happened."

"We talked. It was no big." Willow gave her a dirty look, well, as dirty as Willow's looks ever got. "Fine," Buffy surrendered. "There might have been a little tiny sparkage. I mean, it was the first time he really seemed like himself since everything happened. Totally annoying, totally antagonizing, but only after being all not Spike and feeling guilt over his past."

"And you like this new Spike? You really think he's changed?"

It wasn't a skeptical question or a sarcastic one. Willow honestly wanted to know Buffy's opinion of the situation, she was trusting Buffy to form the right judgment. It felt amazing to have Willow's belief in her be that strong. Things between them had been so off for a long time that it was simply wonderful to feel back on track.

"I do, Will. I really do think he's different. When I saw him on the cross that night, I thought no way, because it's Spike and he's been known to make with the dramatic. But he was in pain, real pain, and when we've talked, it's like talking to a normal person, someone who isn't just obsessed with me. I think, if he wanted to, if we helped him, he could be a good person."

Willow smiled at her, a warm smile that made Buffy smile back. "That's good, that's really good. Because we kind of have enough to deal with without evil Spike adding to the mix. I mean, we've got Andrew locked in the spare bedroom and if that isn't an all consuming problem, I don't know what is."

"Ugh. So agreed. And tomorrow, I'll patrol with Spike and if everything goes good . . ." Buffy trailed off, not knowing where she was going.

"He should come here."

Willow and Buffy looked behind them to see Dawn standing in the doorway, her backpack still over her shoulder. "You're home early," Buffy said, unsure of how much her sister had heard.

"If you're serious about Spike being different now, he should stay here, with us," Dawn said, ignoring Buffy's comment.

"We kind of have a full house now, if you haven't noticed." Buffy wasn't sure what Dawn's reasoning was and she really wasn't sure she wanted Spike as her roommate.

"You said you want to help him, Buffy, that if we help him then he can be good. So he should stay with us where we can be there to help him." She had her arms crossed in her no-nonsense pose. For a teenager she was annoyingly stubborn in her resolve.

Buffy looked to Willow for help. She held up her glistening hands. "It's your house, Buffy, it's your call."

Buffy frowned. "I don't know about more male roomies, Dawn, it seems kind of rash to me. Besides, we don't even know what Spike would want."

"Then ask him," Dawn said simply, turning around. "But I think he should come here."

* * *

Spike and Buffy stalked silently through the graveyard keeping their eyes open for any of the undead coming out to play. Walking styles aside, the Slayer was anything but focused. Her mind was whirling with Dawn's insistence that they house Spike. It was crazy. They didn't have room for him. If he came, he'd have to stay in the basement.

Buffy was so distracted by her thoughts, that she didn't catch the vampire dashing out from one of the mausoleums. Spike shoved her to the ground, throwing a kick at the vampire as he lunged for the attack. Buffy fell hard on her hip, exhaling sharply from the contact and feeling entirely foolish. After dusting the vampire, Spike offered her his hand.

She accepted, letting him tug her to her feet. "Where's your head at tonight, Slayer? That nasty almost got you."

Buffy frowned, wiping the dirt from her pants. "I know, I'm totally space girl tonight, sorry."

He shot her a sideways glance. "No matter to me, just don't want you getting eaten on my watch. The Scoobies would stake me and probably have a fiesta about it."

She smirked. "Yeah, well, after the fiesta they'd probably just resurrect me, so, no worries."

Spike's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Joking about coming back from the dead now, are we?"

They wound their way to the back of the cemetery. "I've come to terms with it. Moved on, like I said. Like you should too."

"I'm a monster, Buffy. Not sure we do moving on, unless you're telling me the Great Pouf himself has stopped brooding."

She halted in her procession, Spike stopping with her. They faced each other in the moonlight of the night, the wind warm and gentle as it blew against her face. "Angel is brooding, it doesn't have to do with his soul. But you aren't brooding. You're . . . chaos?" Buffy couldn't think of a better word.

A crooked smile tugged up the corner of Spike's handsome mouth. "I think that's about the closest thing to a compliment I've ever gotten from you, Slayer."

"I hate when you call me that," she said offhandedly, sweeping the hair back from her face that the wind had tangled in her lip gloss. "It's my job, it's not who I am."

Spike should his head. "You're wrong. It is who you are. It's where your strength comes from, it's where your stubbornness resides, and it's what gives you the power to love those wankers you call friends."

The butterflies descended upon her stomach. "They mean well. "

"You've told me so before."

"Then you should believe me."

"I would have eaten them, you know? I would have drained them and tossed them aside for you to find. Bloody hell, the number of times I dreamed of killing you? Of bathing in your blood then picking my teeth with your bones?" He stopped and Buffy was speechless, strangely enthralled that he was sharing this part of himself with her.

"I see it every night. I used to dream of saving you. Told you so. But now? When I sleep I spend every nightmare ending your life. Each time more inventive, more horrific. Then I wake up and for the first minute I think I've really done it, really killed you, and I want nothing but to be dead beside you. Then something reminds me that you're alive, probably the sting in my chest from the sodding soul, and it's okay for a moment.

"But that's what scares me, Buffy. What if something in me snaps? We both know I'm not the sanest of the bunch. What if I crack and come after you, do any of those horrible things I've imagined to you?" His voice trembled.

She cupped Spike's face in her hands. He tried to pull back, startled, but Buffy held firm. Her green eyes watched his as she spoke. "That is not who you are now. You have a chance to change all of that. I believe you can change, Spike."

"And if I can't?" His words showcased his vulnerability.

"I'm offering to stand beside you because I believe in you. You always stood beside me."

He dropped his eyes to the ground, but tilted his face toward hers. Buffy edged a millimeter forward, the grass brushing against the heels of her boots. Spike exhaled softly, all leather, tobacco, and oak. Buffy closed her eyes, her hands warm against his cheeks. His lips brushed over hers, she didn't draw back, she couldn't.

She wanted to be comforted. She wanted this to be right.

Spike kissed her, his lips a gentle pressure filled with hope. She pulled his face closer, kissing back harder. His hands settled on her hips, moving her to him until she wrapped her arms around his back. They kissed, truly kissed for the first time. Their lips fusing together with equal passion and feeling.

The kiss went on until Buffy needed to surface for air and the moment was broken. She disentangled herself, drawing in a shaky breath. Spike looked at her sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, Buffy."

"For what?" she asked quietly.

"I shouldn't have kissed you. I guess I can't change every-"

Lifting on to her tiptoes, Buffy met his gaze, warning him with her eyes before she kissed him. His lips were still beneath hers. She pressed herself firmly against him, letting him feeling the steady beating of her heart.

Spike shuddered, then released, his arms crisscrossing over her back, holding Buffy to him as he kissed her, his tongue sliding against her lower lip, parting them to brush deliciously against her kissed back eagerly, trying to put all of the confused emotions she was feeling into the physical act.

The kiss wasn't desperate or sexually frantic like the ones they had shared before. It was quiet and slow, an exploration of territory neither of them had ever imagined they would be in. A true mingling of souls, of fears hidden now made open. Buffy's fingers ran up Spike's hair, disheveling it as she fought to be closer to him. Spike lifted her slightly off the ground, his lips moving over hers in a familiar but slightly different pattern, not the slightest trace of conquest betraying him.

It was quite some time before they finally broke apart. Both too embarrassed to say anything. They stood there, Buffy's hands clasped in front of her, Spike's shoved in his pockets, staring pointlessly at the ground. Eventually Buffy looked up, seeing that Spike's hair was still roughed up, she reached to smooth it back down. He stopped her hand, interweaving their fingers.

A blush heated her cheeks. Twenty-two, a slayer, and a boy could still make her blush. "Your hair, it's all spikey," she said.

Spike lifted his other hand, running it over the back of his head. A smile tilted the left side of his mouth. "That's how I wore it during the 70s."

Buffy squinted her eyes, imagining what a punk Spike would have looked like. He guessed her thoughts, shaking his head. "I'm not sure it was my best era."

She suppressed a smile, "I wouldn't mind seeing it."

His smile was full now. "Eyeliner and all?"

"Well, maybe without the eyeliner."

He rubbed his thumb over her smooth skin. "I'll see what I can do."

A quiet moment passed, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Buffy knew she should have been running and screaming from him, horrified about what had just passed between them. But she didn't feel that way. The weight of the last year had slipped from her shoulders, it lay at her feet, a black mark on her life as the Slayer, but one that could no longer touch her, because the man standing before her wasn't a demon anymore.

Humanity had blossomed in Spike again, ugly and painful, but utterly human. It's what had kept him from eating Andrew, from biting Xander, from attacking Willow, and from hurting Buffy herself. It wasn't the chip. It was the soul.

She knew Xander and Dawn probably wouldn't understand what she was feeling, but Willow did. Willow was the one who had betrayed Tara, she had caused horrific damage to the one she loved. And Tara had taken her back.

It wasn't exactly the same, this thing Buffy shared with Spike. She was picking and choosing which parts of him she wanted to believe were in the man before her. But for the first time in a very long time, She felt almost right. If he could be the man she knew was buried deep in him, then all of the attraction he held for her, it wouldn't be dirty and wrong. It would be right.

Spike raised their hands, cocking his scarred eyebrow at Buffy. "What is this?"

His words pulled her away from her thoughts. Buffy's heart sank a little at having to label this tentative peace. "I'm not sure yet. It's not what it was before, but . . ."

"You don't want anyone to know?" Disappointment filled his words; his fingers moving to release hers, Buffy held on more firmly.

"No. I don't. I want us to figure it out first. Is that okay?"

He looked up at her, guarded questions in his eyes. "Us?"

"Yes. I don't want to hide us out of shame, I want to protect this, until we know what we want it to be. Friends, allies, something else . . ."

Spike drew Buffy to him, propping his chin on her head. "I can't argue with that, Pet. It's about the kindest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"I bought you nail polish." She said. "But the bottle's at home."

"Correction, that is the kindest thing," he teased.

Buffy pressed her cheek against his chest, taking in the silence that was inside. There was no heart beat, no thrum of the blood keeping him alive. There was only silence.

"So do I get the nail polish now or later?"

"God. You're always so pushy," she teased, stepping back.

"And I thought I was a changed man." He smiled.

Buffy's heart flipped over. "Come on, you soulful thing, let's go back to the house."


	9. Chapter 9

Admittedly, Buffy and Spike made their way slowly through the cemetery, enjoying their private time together. Their hands swung gently between them as they walked; Spike's fingers playing with the lighter in his left hand as they passed Edward Hanes tree stump grave.

"Can I ask how this," he looked pointedly down at their hands, "came about exactly? I haven't forgotten what I was like or what I did before I left. So?"

Buffy squeezed his hand. Her thoughts on the subject were rather scattered, but she always came back to one image, his body draped over the cross, smoking. She stopped walk causing him to as well. He turned, looking down at her.

"You. You are how this happened. When I saw you – when you were in the church . . ."

He nodded slowly to show Buffy he was following.

"There was no need for words, your penance was obvious in everything you did. It wasn't immediate or anything, but it started settling in that you weren't the same person who had done those things to me, that you had started to change even before you got your soul."

He scowled, "Not soon enough, though."

Buffy lifted his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles once. Spike bowed his head over hers, his forehead resting on the back of her neck. "Strange that your forgiveness is the sharpest torture of all," he whispered, his breath ruffling Buffy's hair.

She kissed his cool skin again. "That's because you have to forgive yourself as well. And for the record, I'm sorry too."

"You're sorry?" He looked at her in confusion.

"I treated you terribly too, Spike. I was violent, I was mean, and I was unapologetic about it. But I'm not the same person either. I'm not that angry anymore. And I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. Not having a soul isn't an excuse for me treating you as if I didn't have one either."

They had reached the edge of the cemetery, one left turn and two blocks away was her house, full of house guests waiting for Buffy to return with Spike and a verdict on his future and here she was exchanging sweet nothings with him. Story of her life.

"Who do you want, though, Buffy? Me or who I was before, William the Bloody?" Spike nudged his shoulder against hers to garner her attention. She could tell from the way he said it, the question had been gnawing at him since the night before when she had first brought up the subject.

"I need you to be dangerous. Soul and all, I can't have you walking around with your head hanging down like Angel did. I loved Angel, but that's not why I like being with you, and you aren't at your best when you aren't being . . . kind of evil." Buffy kept her words light, even as she gnawed on her bottom lip.

"Kind of evil? And how do you know when I'm at my best? You've only seen me with a soul for a few days and for most of them I was out of my sodding mind."

"Spike." Buffy walked in front of him. "When you were crying about Dru, you were a poor fighter. When you were crying about the chip, you were a poor fighter. You don't fight well unless you're full of yourself, your insatiable ego and swagger."

"Sweet words." He shook her hand from his.

Buffy rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. "This is what I'm talking about. All of this sensitivity. It's not you. It's annoying, actually."

"Annoying!" He blinked several times, taking this in. "One moment you're talking about standing with me, the next your berating me? Bloody hell! I've changed, but you sure as hell haven't."

"I'm not trying to spare your feelings, Spike. I want you to be dangerous, not the kind of dangerous that is going to hurt me or my friends, but the kind that is full of swagger, ready to take on absolutely anything. That's who I need you to be. If I needed an introspective vampire, I would have called up Angel."

Spike growled, ready to make a run for it. Buffy didn't know exactly why she did it, but at the time, it seemed to make perfect sense. She jumped onto his back, thereby guaranteeing, anywhere he went, she went too. It was stupid. But it was the first thing that came to mind.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" he shouted, his words slightly slurred as a result of his vampire transformation, those fangs certainly seemed to have a way of getting in the way.

"You need to listen to me!" Buffy said, clamping her legs about his waist and her arms around his neck.

"I'm going through something here! And you are treating me like Dawn, pouting over a bad day at school."

"You are 128 years old! This is the equivalent of pouting over a bad day."

Spike clutched at her hands, attempting to heave Buffy off of him. It was a valiant effort, but Buffy wasn't going to be dislodged. "Why are you so bleeding annoying! Constantly nagging me! You're worse than Harmony."

Buffy gasped in outrage. "You take that back!" To emphasize said outrage, she smacked his chest.

He dropped to the ground as he exhaled a hiss of pain. Buffy tumbled off of him on to the squishy grass.

"Spike! Are you okay?" she asked with concern, realizing she had probably hit his wound.

He rolled onto his back, one hand fastened over his chest. His pale face was twisted in pain. "Bloody brilliant," he said through gritted teeth.

She straddled his waist, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. "Let me see."

"No." He batted her hands away.

"Spike," she said in warning.

"I'm fine." His expression said otherwise but Buffy thought it better to have compliance then wrestle it out with an injured vampire.

She eased off him. "Then let's get back to the house."

With slow deliberation, he got to his feet. Hunched slightly forward, Spike marched forward, not waiting for Buffy. Sighing, she hurried after him.

* * *

Once they reached Buffy's house, Spike stalked past Willow and Xander who were sitting in the living room watching TV, clattering down the basement stairs.

"And he's back." Xander smoothed his hands on his jeans. Following Spike's descent with his eyes, he asked, "Will he be staying here instead of with me? Because my guest room and I would celebrate that."

"We agreed that he can stay here as long as he keeps himself chained up to the basement wall." Buffy said, sitting in the chair across from the couch. When she had finally caught up to Spike, they had traded very curt conversation about his new housing arrangement. Spike was the one who felt the chains were necessary, Buffy's trust in him was almost implicate, but he was still wary about the chip being deactivated.

Xander stood up. "If the fiend's safely locked away, I'm going to go back and sleep in my blissfully empty house." He waved and departed.

"Do you, uh, need to check on Spike?" Willow asked.

Buffy cast her eyes to the basement door. "I'll make sure he's chained up, then I'm going to bed. Guidance Counselor's can't slack off every day."

In the basement, Spike was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the wall. Both his hands and his feet secured in heavy chains to the wall. His eyes were closed, but he grimaced at Buffy's approach.

"Come to see if William the Bloody is all locked in for the night?" He shook his chains. "All set. Thanks for asking."

She ignored him, moving to the sink and filling a bowl with warm water. Buffy took a clean rag from the closet along with all the supplies she would need. Depositing them in front of Spike, she kneeled on the ground.

Spike cracked open one eye. "What's all this?"

"I need to see your wound."

"Kind of tied up at the moment." He stretched his arms forward, pulling the chains taut.

Looking behind her, Buffy located the key he had tossed a safe distance from him. Picking it up, she unlocked his hands. "Your shirt?"

His eyes sliced to her. "I'm fine."

"This isn't a choice, Spike. I'm telling you to take off your shirt so I can dress the wound. So do it."

He didn't move. Glaring, Buffy grabbed the hem of his shirt in her hands and thrust up roughly. "Hey! Careful with the merchandise," he protested, but the lightness of his words was lost by the contortion of his face. Buffy tugged the shirt all the way up, discarding it to her left. Sometime between her afternoon visit and their night time rendezvous, Spike had ditched his bandages, it wasn't a pretty sight.

"Spike," she whispered in concern.

"It's nothing," he said with equal gravity.

Angry black lines shot out in every direction from the three gashes. The wound should have been healing, even if slowly. Instead, all that seemed to have happened was that Spike was no longer bleeding. The gashes were just as deep, and just as fresh looking. It was the black lines that had Buffy worried. It seemed to her that the blood in those veins was infected, if that was possible.

She scooted closer on her knees, her fingertips tracing over the multiple lines. Spike captured Buffy's hand, stilling it. "I'm fine."

"When I talked about ego, I didn't mean being stupidly macho. Which, in case you were wondering, is what you are doing now." She might have succeeded in sounding glib if her voice hadn't trembled.

He ran the back of her hand down his cheek. "I've survived worse."

Aware of the intimacy of the gesture, Buffy got back to the task at hand, taking her hand from him and dipping the rag in the warm water. "This might sting," she warned him before applying the cloth to his chest. Vampire that he was, he hadn't bothered to clean the wounds after taking off the bandage so that dried blood was caked around the angry red cuts.

Spike struggled not to show his reaction, but finally fell to hissing again. "I'm sorry," Buffy apologized, watching his face closely in case the pain was too much.

It took fifteen minutes of cautiously slow movements to clean and redress the wound. By the time they were done, a fine sheen of sweat had broken out across Spike's forehead. Buffy wiped that away as well.

"Done," she said, helping him put his shirt back on.

Spike slumped back against the wall. "Remind me not to mutilate myself again. Your ministrations are far worse than the actual mutilating."

"I thought you've survived much worse."

He slanted his gaze to her. "I may have been suffering from my overblown ego."

Dropping her hand into her jacket pocket, Buffy pulled out the bottle of black nail polish, she shook it enticingly at him. "A little pick me up?"

He smiled slightly. "I'm still not sure black is my color anymore, Pet."

"Well, I know one thing that isn't." She stood up, kicking his crumpled duster with her foot. "I'm going to personally set fire to this thing."

"My coat?" he asked in horror.

"Yes. It has to go. Consider it part of the old you." Buffy gathered up the coat.

"You wanted the dangerous Spike and you are dangerously close to getting him right now, Slayer. Put the coat down." He was getting to his feet, she kicked the key out of reach, and moved to the staircase.

"Sorry, Spike. This evil coat has to go."

"I will get you for this, Buffy," he threatened, walking forward until the chains on his ankles forced him to stop.

"With this coat gone, I feel certain that I can face anything." With that, Buffy sped back up the stairs, almost ecstatic in her chance to destroy the world's ugliest article of clothing.

"Oh my god," Dawn said, rounding the corner into the kitchen at the same time Buffy did. "Is that Spike's coat?"

"Uhm," Buffy looked guiltily down at the parcel in her hands, "yes."

"What – what are you doing with it?"

"Burning it?"

Dawn's eyes widened. "Is Spike -?"

"No! He's in the basement. But this," she held the coat out to her sister, "I can't let it be in our house."

A moment of taut silence passed.

"Can I help?"

Buffy grinned. "I would love for you to help."

Five minutes later, Willow, Dawn, and Buffy stood around a burning metal garbage can, watching the horrid duster combust. Dawn raised her hands, letting the hot glow of the flames warm them.

"I think it looks much better this way," she commented.

Willow nodded. "It's much more of a statement like this."

"A statement to the flammability of all things," Buffy said.

"Stop!" The muffled cry came from the upstairs window accompanied with plaintive banging on the glass. The three women glanced over their shoulders at Andrew. He had been the only one besides Spike who was staunchly opposed to the duster roasting.

Andrew had been living in the Summers' spare bedroom for the past two weeks, a footnote in Buffy's existence that she forgot more often than not since they kept him locked in the room and took turns bringing him food. It didn't sound super humane, but he wasn't exactly an innocent man.

Dawn hiked her eyebrow. "Do you ever get the feeling that Andrew might be a little gay?"

"Yes," Willow and Buffy said in unison.

The flames sputtered for a moment, then roared back again. The sleeves of the duster shriveled and the smell was not entirely pleasant. However, the women forebear, the desire to see that most wretched coat burn outweighing their discomfort. Wind blew through the trees, sending the smoke to the left, they shifted accordingly.

"How's Davie Smith doing?" Willow asked, a twinkle in her eye.

Dawn beamed. "He's really great. Did I mention he plays lacrosse?"

"La-what?" Buffy asked.

"Lacrosse. It's this really great sport and he's really great at it. He's the captain. I'm going to the game this Friday. He invited me." She was practically humming with excitement.

"Where's the game?"

"At school. They play on the football field."

"Do you want us to come?" Willow asked. "We could see the really great Davie Smith in action."

"No!" Dawn said hastily. "It's just, I'm going with some friends and if two alumni came with me, one who happens to be the guidance counselor, well . . . just no."

Willow and Buffy laughed. Folding her arms sternly, Buffy said, "Fine. We'll spend our Friday watching _My Fair Lady_ and we won't even let you sing along with us when you get home."

"But – but that's my favorite musical!"

"The hardship of being a teenager with a crush," Willow tutted.

Dawn smiled. "He is really great though."

They stayed outside until the flames were finally extinguished and all that was left of the duster was acrid smoke curling upward into the atmosphere. She smiled to herself. It felt to Buffy like a new beginning. A new Spike. A new relationship between them.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** To everyone who has commented, favorited, and followed merci beaucoup! Reading commenters' concern for Spike's duster was way awesome even if I'm not a duster fan, haha. So thanks so much for your input!

* * *

The two days it took to reach Friday passed by fairly quickly. Spike remained chained in the basement, drinking pig's blood to get by. Buffy's first encounter with him after the duster bonfire was hostile at best. Spike's barbs were extra sharp, and her own returns were not quite as polite as she tended to be with the vampire. They ended in a stalemate, both glaring, neither appeased.

Then of course, his wound needed checking. Buffy had ignored it on Wednesday since friendly terms were not what she would have qualified their association. But on Thursday, she was unable to prevent herself from harassing him.

"Spike!" Buffy called, rudely waking him from slumber.

He rolled over, both arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Come to burn something else of mine? Sorry, Love, fresh out of extra clothes."

"No worries." She kicked the basket of freshly washed dark clothing to him.

He leaned down, staring at his neatly folded shirts and pants. "How domestic of you. And Riley thought you weren't wife material." He tutted patronizingly.

Buffy gritted her teeth as she ignored his remarks. Taking the key from its post by the stairwell, she unlocked the manacles on his wrists. Spike flexed his hands, working out the stiffness.

"We need –" But Buffy didn't get to finish her sentence.

Spike lunged at her, grabbing both of Buffy's shoulders in his hands. Her arms came up, ready to shoved him off, but she hesitated, not wanting to hit his chest. Spike took advantage of Buffy's indecision, thrusting her behind him, pressed up hard against the wall. She lifted her knee, preparing to kick solidly at his more prized parts. His hands slid down her shoulders, along her arms, past her elbows, finally entangling her hands. He had Buffy spread eagle against the wall, his eyes dark with some unknown emotion.

"Spike," she warned.

He tilted his face, pressing it against her neck. Alarm should have been sounding keenly in her mind. Buffy found herself, melting at his touch instead. It was the way he held her, so firmly and yet with a gentleness that assured her she would come to no harm.

"I loved that coat," he said against her neck, his lips brushing Buffy's warm skin.

"And I hated it."

"I've had that coat longer than you've been alive."

"The first or second time?"

He stepped between her instep, their bodies finding each other at certain key locations. "I told you I would get you, Buffy. You shouldn't have touched the coat. Not even Harmony was that stupid."

His hands released hers only to encircle her waist; he buried his face into her neck. Buffy felt his cool breath as he exhaled sharply, his teeth grazing her skin. It took her a second to realize he was hugging her not preparing to bite her. Once it registered, she draped her arms over his shoulder, resting her head against his.

"So the coat was the secret to your evilness?" Buffy joked.

Spike laughed, the sound muffled by their close contact. "It was a part of who I used to be. Not that I'm glad it's gone, bloody fond of that jacket I was. Still, I'd rather you banish the jacket, than . . ."

He didn't finish and she wasn't sure she wanted him to. Buffy let the moment last longer than she might have if she had been thinking straight. However, she was too focused on what they were doing. Hugging. The simplicity of it, and yet, it was something they'd never done before.

Buffy was distracted by how perfectly their bodies fit together. Spike's strong but battered chest against the softer curves of hers. The way they tangled up in each other, without getting tangled. They stood there like one person, two halves making a whole. It set her head to spinning. It had to mean something.

A creak on the floorboards overhead brought Buffy back to herself. She cleared her throat and Spike relinquished his hold. "Ready to fix those bandages now?"

He stepped back, whipping his shirt off; his eyes uncertain as he bared himself for her. Carefully, Buffy unwound the bandages. She bit her lip, unhappy with what she saw. "Oh, Spike." Her fingers traced the lengthening black lines. Whatever it was, the blackness was spreading further down his veins. It had her seriously worried.

He closed his eyes at Buffy's touch. "It's nothing."

She pressed her hand over the gashes in his chest. "You're a bad liar."

"I've always considered it one of my most fine honed skills."

"Liar," Buffy repeated, pressing her lips gently against his.

Spike didn't hesitate to kiss back, his lips moving with hers, but she drew away before it could get too serious. "I need to bandage you."

He sat down on the cot and waited patiently as Buffy covered his chest in fresh alcohol and sterile bandages. When she was done, she sat down beside him. Spike picked up her hand tentatively, when she didn't resist, he wove their fingers together.

"We have to figure out what's wrong. I'll get Willow and the others researching it."

"And if it can't be fixed, are you going to keep wasting the bandages?"

"We'll figure this out. We always figure things out. That's what we're good at."

"Right. The crack team who foils all my plans."

Buffy smiled. "Strange how much I hated you when we were getting married."

"You were insufferable. Wedding in the daylight?" He shook his head.

"Mr. and Mrs. Big Pile of Dust? Classy, I'm sure."

"And I gave you my favorite ring. Guess I'm lucky you didn't feel like torching that as well." He grinned at her.

"It was a hideous engagement ring. Definitely the worst I've ever had."

"You've had more than one?" Spike asked, and though he tried to sound nonchalant, there was obvious annoyance in his words.

Buffy knocked her shoulder against his. "Hundreds. What with those three boyfriend's I've had. Well, two really, and whatever we were."

"What are we now?"

The question had been bothering her since their night in the graveyard. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Friends. Confidants. Something else."

"Right . . ."

"Give it a few days to develop, would you? I mean, it's not like you're asking me out to dinner and movie."

"You want me to? I'm not sure my dinner would be on the menu, but –"

"Stop!" Buffy covered Spike's mouth with her hand, he kissed the inside of her palm. "Time, okay?"

"Time," he agreed.


	11. Chapter 11

After Dawn left for the lacrosse game with the really great Davie Smith on Friday, Willow and Buffy settled down to watch _My Fair Lady_. Buffy popped the tape in the VHS player and grabbed the popcorn. Andrew was sitting in the corner, chewing a box of jujubes. They had invited Xander but he passed saying he wasn't in a very musical mood.

Willow picked up the remote, hitting pause just as the overture began to swell. "Is Spike coming?" She was being supportive of the whole keeping Spike around and searching for vampire diseases. So far, though, they hadn't come up with anything useful.

"Uhm," Buffy looked at her best friend in surprise. "I didn't think he would be into a musical."

"Did you even ask?" Andrew glared at Buffy in an accusing manner.

"No," she admitted. "I can though."

Buffy hopped back up, heading down into the basement. Spike's living conditions had been improved by adding a pillow and some blankets. He was stretched out on the cot now, eyes closed, apparently sleeping.

"Spike?" Buffy quietly approached the cot.

He lifted one lid. "Yeah?"

"Andrew is concerned that I didn't invite you to watch _My Fair Lady_, but I kind of figured that –"

"With Audrey Hepburn?" He sat up swiftly.

"Yes . . ."

His eyes narrowed. "Who all is watching?"

"Me, Willow, and Andrew."

He thought this over.

"Do you – do you want to watch it?" Buffy asked, completely bewildered.

"Audrey Hepburn with a cockney accent?" He snorted. "What do you think?"

"Honestly? Super confused."

"Is he coming?" Andrew yelled down to them. "I want to go to bed by ten!"

Spike stood. "I'm not going to say I want to watch it. I just want to get out of this bloody basement."

Buffy's expression was entirely quizzical. "Uhm, okay, sure."

He held out his hands for her to unchain him. Picking up the key from its post on the wall by the stairs, she walked over, twisting it in each of the locks. He stooped to pick up his nail polish, then preceded her up the stairs.

Buffy remembered Spike liking to watch _All My Children_, but she hadn't guessed his pop culture interests extended to a 1960s film. It was weird. Creepy weird. _My Fair Lady _was so docile and not, well, full of people dying bloody deaths.

Upstairs, Spike took the left side of the couch, putting the polish on the side table. Buffy tried to shake off the feeling, but seeing Spike twist off the cap of the black nail polish and get to work only solidified the weirdness of the evening.

Willow gave Buffy wide eyes with an accompanying little smile. Buffy was sure she looked dazed. She sat down between Willow and Spike, leaning towards the comfort of normal Willow.

"Come on already!" Andrew whined.

"If you talk during the movie, I'll bleed you dry," Spike warned, eyes narrowed at him.

Andrew gulped. Willow pressed play. Buffy tried not to faint.

* * *

Dawn walked in just as the credits started to roll. "I'm home!"

"No. He's a jerk. A big pretentious jerk. I have no idea why she stays with him," Buffy argued.

"But he loves her," Willow said. "In his own jerky way."

"Great. So she has to settle for someone who verbally abuses her?"

"He's expressing his mind. Which is bloody more than I can say for the lot of you," Spike inserted.

"Anyone want to know about Davie?" Dawn tried again, surprisingly unfazed by the congregation in the living room.

"He treats her like a possession! How is that love?" Buffy shook her head. "No way would I let a guy talk to me like that."

"And look how many guys you have waiting to date you." Spike kicked the heels of his Doc Martens onto the coffee table.

Buffy shoved them off. "You're a pig, Spike."

"You keep telling me," he said cheerfully.

"It's not about his words," Willow interceded. "It's about his actions. He can't admit to himself that he loves anyone more than himself, but it's in his song and in his lament. He loves her."

"Great. He can pine after her and she can go be with Simon, someone who actually cares about her."

"Right. She's going to go be with the boy. Eliza wants a man. Henry is a man. Simple." Spike put his feet back up.

Buffy shoved them down again. "He's a brute."

"Some of the best men are."

"I think Henry looks great in those silk pajamas." Four pairs of eyes swiveled to stare at Andrew. "What? I'm just saying."

"Can we listen to _I could have danced all night_?" Dawn asked, dropping into a cross legged position by the coffee table. Willow pushed rewind going back to the scene. Buffy stood up, not in the mood to watch it again; choosing to clear the table instead.

Spike grabbed the popcorn before she could. Together, they took the used things into the kitchen. Placing all the cups on the counter, Buffy turned to look at Spike. He was leaning across the island counter, his eyes glinting.

"So you don't like a man who bosses you around? Who treats you like his possession? You wouldn't much like being my pet then."

She crossed her arms. "Guess not. I have this crazy notion of strong independent women."

Spike smirked. "Who have you ever dated that didn't treat you like you needed to be protected?"

"Who beat me up?" She gave him a crazy look. "Uhm, you. But I wouldn't say we dated."

"Call it what you want."

"Okay," Buffy turned the water on, washing out the cups, "I will."

"How do you want to be talked to? Because the words I remember us sharing aren't exactly for Dawny's ears." He was right behind her now, so close but not touching.

She ignored him, scrubbing vigorously at the inside of the cups.

"Buffy . . ."

His right hand seized her waist, squeezing so hard it was sure to leave a bruise had she not been a slayer. "Spike!" Buffy said in panic, scared he wasn't quite so soulful as he seemed.

His fingers released and so did he, falling to the ground. "Spike!" She spun around. Spike was flat on his back, his eyes rolled up as one hand clutched at his chest. Willow and Dawn came running.

"What's wrong?" Willow asked.

"I – I don't know. Help me get him downstairs. Dawn, lock Andrew back in his room," Buffy said, not wanting Andrew to escape in the excitement. She grabbed Spike's shoulders, Willow took his feet. Together, they heaved him down to the basement.

By the time they got him onto the cot, Dawn was right behind them, Andrew securely locked in for the night. On the cot, Spike moaned, but remained unconscious. "Wh-what do we do?" Dawn asked, her big eyes made even wider with concern.

"Did you find anything, Willow, during your research?" Buffy asked, already ripping Spike's shirt from him. She knew he would hate the charade she was making of it, but Buffy was convinced whatever was happening was related to the black lines. Quickly as she could, Buffy unwrapped the bandages.

"Oh," Willow said, looking at the veins. "Oh!" She beat a hasty retreat upstairs.

"What is that?" Dawn peered down at him.

"Help Willow," Buffy directed.

With a last look, Dawn headed up the stairs after Willow. Buffy went the basement fridge, taking out a bottle of blood. Kneeling beside Spike, she propped his head up. "Spike, wake up."

His head lolled harmlessly against her arm. "Spike!"

His eyelids twitched, but remained closed. Buffy dipped her finger in the blood, it was cold and thick reminding her unpleasantly of syrup. She slid her finger across his lips, leaving a line of dark red. Spike became more alert, moving a little, then opening his eyes.

His tongue ran over his lips. He pulled back in surprise at the taste of the blood. "Buffy," his worried gaze washed over her.

She held up her finger and the bottle of blood. "No, big. Minus the part where you passed out and scared the hell out of me." She handed him the bottle.

He accepted it, leaning back against the wall for support. "Passed out?"

"Yeah. We were talking about . . . the movie was over."

"The movie?" He drank the blood. Pausing, he looked down at his bare midriff. "Are you sure it was a movie?"

"Spike!" Her cheeks reddened.

He put the bottle down, taking hold of Buffy's hand with the bloody finger. She tried to take her hand back, "I just need to wash it." Picking up his shirt, he balled it up and used it to wipe her finger off. "Or, you know, we could do that . . ."

"I didn't attack anyone, did I?" Spike asked, not looking at her.

"No," Buffy said. "Well, technically you grabbed onto me like drowning man, but –"

"I what?" He turned to her, his eyes running over her exposed skin more thoroughly.

"Was I a more delicate woman, you probably would have managed to break a bone or two; thankfully, I'm immune to such petty things." Buffy tried to make light.

He cupped his head in hands. "I'm sorry, Buffy."

"Hey," she said, placing her hand on his knee. "It's okay. You were kind of in a situation."

"I hurt you." He said each word decisively.

"You didn't mean to."

"But I did. No matter what I do, I can't stop hurting you."

Buffy prayed Willow would hurry down with some useful information because Buffy didn't know how to respond to Spike. She decided untimed humor was the best approach.

"You're sounding a lot like another vampire with a soul. I never realized before how similar the two of you are."

He snorted. "Not bloody likely. He's –" Spike looked up at her, his eyebrow lowered in curiosity, having figured out her game.

Buffy shrugged. "No big deal, okay?"

Willow and Dawn clattered down the stairs, interrupting the moment. "I have it!" Willow held up a thick text triumphantly.

Buffy stood up, distancing herself from Spike. The females grouped together, Spike still resting on the cot. "What does it say?"

"It's not in English, so nothing I can read," Dawn said.

"It's very old, that's why I hadn't checked it yet. It never occurred to me that vampires might have been walking around with souls since their beginning. I mean, who would have thought? You think vampire, you think soulless fiend. But apparently, Angel wasn't the first vampire to get cursed with a soul, and Spike wasn't the first to get his back," Willow spoke in an excited rush, one Buffy had grown used to over their many years of friendship.

"Great. Nothing like making a soulless fiend feel special." Spike closed his eyes.

"You are!" Willow was quick to say. "I mean, well, there's only about one vampire per century who gets his soul back, if that. Especially during the Middle Ages, vampires with souls were unheard of, which is why the texts don't talk about them. But this one! It's about the third vampire to have a soul."

"Which helps us how?" Buffy asked, not feeling into the history lesson.

"Right!" She pointed to a passage of the handwritten text. It was written in a strange set of symbols that Buffy was grateful Willow understood, because she surely didn't. Though, to be fair, books had never really been her thing.

"What's it say?" Dawn asked.

"It talks about the valiant vampire, a vampire like Spike who fought for his soul."

"Valiant vampire . . . Wait! You told her?" Spike asked, outraged.

"She's my best friend," Buffy said unapologetically.

Spike groused. "A bloke thinks a thing like that would be private, but with a woman, oh no, never."

"Shut up," Dawn and Buffy snapped.

He glared.

"Go on, Willow," Buffy said.

"Okay. It says that a vampire who fought for his soul is one apart from those who are cursed. This vampire sought out his soul. He had started to remember what a soul felt like. An event of such importance had occurred to dislodge the demon in him, just enough to leave a yearning for a soul."

Spike and Buffy regarded each other uncomfortably.

"And?" Buffy asked, hoping to move past the awkwardness.

"Well, because this vampire wanted the soul, because he risked his immortal existence for it, because he had dislodge the demon, he placed himself in a precarious state. Without the soul, he would continue on as a shell. With a soul, he would be complete once more. That's where it gets tricky."

"Get's tricky?" Dawn shook her head. "I'm already lost."

"Souls. Tricky stuff," Spike mumbled.

"Anyway," Willow turned the page, "it says here that if a vampire should get his soul, that he might reject the soul." They all looked to Spike who glowered back.

"It's not exactly a bleeding ball of sunshine now is it?"

"But," Willow continued," unlike the cursed vampire who cannot lose his soul unless the curse is broken, or in Angel's case, fulfilled, the vampire who wanted his soul, can reject the soul. If he rejects the soul, it starts to kill him, from the inside."

Buffy's eyes went to the black lines on Spike's chest. He tried to cover them, tugging on his soiled shirt. "I'm not rejecting the soul," he said stubbornly.

"Right, because trying to carve it out is the picture of acceptance." Buffy rolled her eyes, but her heart was in turmoil, fear for his safety weighing heavily on her. "Is there anything we can do?" she asked Willow.

She flipped through the yellow pages. "That's kind of the part I'm still translating. I think there's a way . . . but. . . "

"But what?" Buffy asked. "We have to save him."

Willow closed the book. "It's a little tricky."

"Trickier than what you just told us?" Dawn folded to sit on the ground. "I think I liked it before when I was kept out of the loop."

"Dawn," Buffy gave her a look, "please."

"Fine." She held up her hands.

"What does it involve, Willow?"

"Well," She sucked in her bottom lip, "you."

Buffy's brow furrowed. "Me?"

"Buffy?" Spike asked at the same time.

"Yes. The demon in Spike is dislodged, it isn't as strong as it used to be. It can't fix what the soul is destroying. But . . . but you could."

"I could? What? Have a heart-to-heart with his soul and tell it to stop killing him?"

"No. It's not you so much as your blood."

Spike's gaze swiveled to Buffy. "Why her blood?" Traces of anger were evident in the angle of his jaw.

"Slayer strength," Buffy said quietly.

"Yes. Like when Angel was poisoned . . ."

Buffy's hand went automatically to the scar on the right side of her neck. It was still marble smooth, overlaid by two puncture wounds from where Dracula had bitten her. Surprisingly, the Master's bite hadn't left a scar.

"No," Spike said angrily. "I'll let the soul kill me."

"I – I need to think. I need to –" Buffy left without finishing her thought.


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N.** Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, etc. This post is a slightly longer one for me, I have everything written in sections and I usually divide up the chapters that way but one of the reviewers requested longer chapters so I'm trying that out. If longer chapters are preferred I can just rearrange the sections to accommodate that, just let me know, thanks!

* * *

Buffy was in the cemetery before she realized she only had one stake. The night was cold and she wasn't wearing a jacket. The grass was wet and she only had on a pair of beat up tennis shoes. Overhead, the moon scrutinized her foolishness.

She couldn't be certain what she was running away from. The only certainty was that Buffy was running. Then, she did what she was best at. Buffy spent the next two hours, ravaging the cemetery of any and all undead. Her attacks more pointed and vicious than usual, her quirky remarks at an all time low.

Yet, when Buffy had nothing left, when she was sitting atop Edward Hanes, her blood was still racing. Whatever she had been trying to fight off, it was still there with her. She had given her blood to Angel, letting a vampire drink from her was something she had done before. But with Spike, she knew it would be different. She felt as if she would be surrendering, giving up the fight that had been between them from the start, allowing him to win after all this time.

What did that mean though? He wasn't the same vampire he had been. Buffy knew that. Still, when she thought of him sinking his fangs into her, it wasn't the Spike with the soul she saw, it was the Spike who had tried to kill her in her own high school. The one who had kidnapped Xander and Willow, had fought with the Gem of Amara, had sold them out to Adam.

Buffy's thoughts were full of trepidation; she still feared the evil lurking in Spike. Why was he rejecting the soul? He had said he wanted it. And now that he had it? It was killing him because he didn't want it. That worried her.

A trail of pink smeared across the horizon. Thank god it was Saturday. There was no way she could have gone to work after this night. Buffy hung her head in her hands, exhaustion prickling at her.

"Hey." His voice was instantly recognizable. Even if he somehow lost the accent, Buffy would always recognize him by the deepness of his voice, the way it reminded her of a waterfall.

"Spike."

"Buffy."

The twigs cracked beneath his feet. She looked up; he was standing before her, hands shoved down deep in his jeans pockets. It bereaved her to note that he looked wildly disheveled without the hideous duster swaying from him.

"I'm not going to ask you to do it. I wouldn't want you to."

"You wouldn't want me to save you?" Buffy narrowed her eyes, taking out her confused frustration on him.

"No. You heard what Willow said. You saved me long before I got my soul. You saved me when I fell in love with you." He leaned back on his Doc Martens. "Not that I'm big for love declarations and all."

"So what's your plan? Let the soul degrade you to nothing?"

"I've been alive longer than my fair share."

The sun was still a glimmer of a thought, not enough to hurt Spike, but soon enough, it would tower overhead, burning his pale skin into dust. "Why are you rejecting the soul?" The question had been burning her up.

He sighed, rocking forward again. "Because it's painful. Hating everything you've ever done. Reliving every moment of it, over and over again. Not quite the walk in the sodding park Angel always made it seem."

"So you'd rather live without remembering. Are you sorry you got your soul back?"

"No," Spike said sharply. He walked up to the edge of the headstone, looking up at Buffy. "I wouldn't change anything that made you – made you proud of me."

Buffy's heart pinched. "I'm not very proud now."

He looked behind him, checking the sun. "I'm not either. I thought I could handle it, I thought I could bear everything I've done." He lifted his shoulders in a heavy sigh. "I can't. I belong in hell, and it looks like my soul knows that too."

"So you're just going to give up?"

"I'm taking the moral high road," he frowned.

"You're being a coward."

"Jesus. What now? I don't want to drink your blood, which you haven't even offered in case you forgot, and yeah I'll end up in hell where I belong and now I'm a coward?"

The headstone was uncomfortable beneath her, prodding Buffy to get up and into action. She clamped down on it, unwilling to move. "I don't want you to go, Spike."

He looked up in surprise. "Is that right?"

"You know it is. I want you here. With me. Making a mess of the lives we've been given. How am I supposed to do that if you're roasting in hell?"

"You could always join me for the bonfire."

Buffy laughed despite herself. "Mr. and Mrs. – "

"Big pile of dust," he finished for her. "Something like that, yeah."

"Isn't it enough that you're sorry?"

"Sorry doesn't change what I've done or how I felt at the time. I liked killing people, Buffy. Hell, I loved it. I can't un-feel that. It haunts me."

She hopped down from the grave as the first rays of light began to spread across the ground. "Let's go home." Buffy held out her hand.

He accepted.

* * *

Buffy chained Spike up in the basement then went to bed herself. The entire time she slept, her dreams were haunted; Spike biting her, Buffy staking him, Spike screaming in pain, her hand at the wound on her neck. She woke up in a twist of sweaty sheets.

It was noon when Buffy stepped into the shower. Downstairs, Willow had left a note saying she had taken Andrew with her to the Magic Box. Dawn left a note saying she was out with friends. Buffy picked lifelessly at her breakfast.

Eventually, she settled on eating in the basement. Spike was sitting up on the cot, he didn't move at her approach. She got him a bag of blood from the basement fridge, and sat down next to him, cereal bowl in hand.

"How can you eat that?" He asked, looking with disgust at the cereal.

Buffy spooned a mouthful between his lips; Spike spluttered. "Don't spit it out!" she warned. Glowering, he chewed and swallowed. Buffy smiled in satisfaction, "Delicious, isn't it?"

He wiped his mouth. "Going to use that spoon with my cooties on it now?" He sank his teeth into the bag of blood.

Buffy licked the spoon, "Mmm, Spike cooties." Then laughed.

He grinned. "If you'd rather get them from the source . . ."

His lips were flecked with red, somewhat dampening the invitation. She leaned forward anyway, avoiding his lips and settling for a kiss on the cheek. "Ask me," she whispered.

Spike stilled, his breathing stopping. He didn't need to breathe of course, but they say old habits die hard. "I can't."

"Why not?" They were speaking in whispers even though they were the only two in the house.

"What I've done to you, Buffy . . . I could never."

She took the hand that wasn't holding his bag of blood and pressed it over her heart. "Ask me."

"I won't."

"You can't live your life apologizing for things that a demon did. You're a man now. You have a soul. Accept that and let the rest go. Leave the brooding to Angel, it doesn't look as good on you."

"Why are you so willing to forgive me?" He took his hand back. "You think you know what I've done. You don't know. You couldn't possibly imagine and I wouldn't want you to."

"I know who you are, who you were."

"You have no idea. You never met William the Bloody, you've only ever known Spike, and he's a rather decent bloke compared to the former."

"And now I know William, minus the bloody part."

He cringed at Buffy's use of his Christian name.

"William, ask me."

"The Scoobies wouldn't approve."

"I'm not asking their permission. It's my blood."

"They did raise you from the dead. I'd argue they think they have some sort of claim over it." He pulled out a cigarette, leaning the not empty blood bag against the wall. Lighting the cigarette, he turned his head to exhale.

Buffy stood. "You're going to die, Spike. And if you die without ever having tried to live, I will never forgive you." She headed up the stairs.

* * *

Needing time with people who could speak louder than her thoughts, Buffy walked to the Magic Box. Swinging open the door, she saw the whole gang gathered around the round table, including an eager looking Andrew.

Xander pounced on her first. "We aren't saving him this time. Soul or no soul, he's still a stalker vampire who tried to kill you and us on multiple occasions."

"And if it was Angel?" It was a slippery question, Buffy knew.

"I'd still say no. Come on, Buffy. You don't need to do this. It's not your fault the dumb vampire is rejecting his soul."

She sat down with the rest of them. Willow had the text open before her, a pile of notes gathered next to it. "I'm trying to see if there is another way to . . ."

"And?"

"It's not looking too hopeful," she admitted in defeat.

Anya threw a book to Buffy. "Do you know what he used to be like?" Buffy cracked open the cover of the dusty tome. "Chapters eight and nine."

Buffy turned to the according pages. "William the Bloody," she read. "I'm not sure Spike would appreciate being our book of the month."

"Slayer book clubs tend to cover unpleasant topics," Xander said.

"I'm sure he'll get over it, and if he doesn't, he's dying anyway," Anya added cheerfully.

Buffy's eyes ran over the first lines, they detailed when Spike had been transformed, his sire and his grandsire; Drusilla and Angel. "This feels weird."

"You should know, Buffy. You should know who he really is before you go about saving him. If he's rejecting his soul, maybe there's a reason." Xander pushed the book closer to her.

"Xander's right," Willow agreed. "I mean, if you want to save Spike, that's up to you, but you should still know who exactly you are dealing with."

Buffy skimmed the first page. The contents talked about Spike's preferred method of killing and torture, railroad spikes, and his preferred victims, slayers and young girls. Her skin crawled. This much she knew. But seeing it in black and white, it made the memory of Spike with a soul seem horribly distant.

"The sun's out, the birds are singing, why not read about his dastardly deeds in the daylight, you know that force he can't step into without erupting into flames." Xander nudged the leg of Buffy's chair backward. "We can pow-wow it out tonight, after you've read up on our favorite dearly departed."

Nose buried in the book, a look exceedingly unusual for her, Buffy wandered out of the Magic Box. She wound up at the cemetery, gracing Edward Hanes with her presence.

In total, Spike's chapters were a hundred pages. Not Buffy's idea of light reading. It took her until five o'clock to finish up, when she did, she felt sick. The gruesome images the text had described, Buffy could see them so clearly. She knew Spike, she knew what he looked like when he attacked, she knew his favorite moves, she knew the way he laughed when the sport was on.

The book tumbled from her hands to the ground below. "Sorry, Edward," Buffy said hollowly.

The pages flapped idly in the evening breeze. The sun was just beginning to set, a red orb bathing the world in blood light. Spike had told her how he killed his first two slayers, in agonizing detail, he had told her. Buffy had been disgusted that night; it was nothing compared to how she felt now.

At that moment, Buffy felt more alone that she ever had. There was no one to talk to about what she was feeling. There was only her and the grave. All of the things that made her certain of Spike wavered in the face of his destruction. All of the reasons she should let him die stood opposed to everything she believed. But there it was.

She had killed Angel to save the world, Angel with a soul whom she loved, she had killed him because it meant saving the world. Letting Spike die, what would that change? Who would it save? Saving him, who would that kill?

The sun continued its descent, abandoning Buffy to her conflicting thoughts. Letting Spike die would mean letting a piece of herself die with him. The piece of her that was more open with Spike than anyone she knew, even her mother, her sister, Willow. Saving Spike would potentially risk others for the sake of her happiness. Buffy knew what Giles would say, she could hear him in her head. His disapproval, his downright disagreement.

The air rippled with electricity. Something was coming. Buffy could feel it, rumbling beneath the earth's surface. Something evil, something she wasn't prepared to fight. She wanted Spike beside her; Giles would see him as a liability. The decision was left up to her.

Could she live with this new knowledge of Spike? Could she look at him and still see the new man? Buffy decided she wouldn't know until she tried.

She scooped up the book and said good-bye to Edward Hanes.

* * *

Willow caught her before she could go to the basement. Willow hooked her arms swiftly through Buffy's and directed her upstairs. Once they were safely sequestered in Willow's room, Willow asked, "Do you love him?"

Buffy faltered. "Love who?"

"Spike. Do you love Spike?"

"No, I – I . . ."

Willow sat down at her vanity, Buffy took up residence on the edge of her friend's bed.

"I talked to Spike."

"You did?" Buffy asked, uncertain where this was going.

"He told me he doesn't care what you want, he doesn't want to be saved."

"Well, he hasn't been exactly sane lately has he?"

"That's not the point, Buffy, and you know it. If Spike doesn't want you to save him, then there is nothing you can do. He told me he already expressed his death wishes to you. So I'm wondering, why are you still worrying about saving him?"

Buffy lay back on the bed, staring at the plastic stars Willow and Tara had stuck up on the ceiling. They hadn't wanted to feel contained by the house. It did have a charming effect. "Because I feel it."

"Love?"

Buffy closed my eyes. "Who knows what love is? It's not how I felt about Angel. It's not how I felt about Riley. It's so very different from that. I feel right when Spike is around, it's not always a good right, but it's right. When he's not around, even after what he did, when he left, it was wrong. I felt wrong. Knowing where he is, knowing I can reach him if I want, that's what feels right." She bit her lip. "If that's what love is, then I'm in love."

Willow curled her legs up. "I don't know either. That's not what I think love is, I mean some of it. Having Tara around, that was essential, but it was the other things that made it love. Needing her approval, wanting to feel her embrace, wanting to show her I loved her too, those were the things that made it love."

"Then what do you think I'm feeling?"

"You're friends, Buffy. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your friend. But you know better than anyone else, your friends don't always know what's best for you. They don't always know when to let go. And maybe, the right thing to do here, is to let Spike go."

* * *

It wasn't until Tuesday night that Buffy ventured back to the basement. She had spent the days before looking at the situation from every possible angle. Every way she turned it, Buffy came up with the same questions and hesitations. Spike's time was waning, it was now or never.

Leaning against the banister, Buffy said hi. Spike looked up at the sound of her voice, he had been staring dejectedly at his hands, already the nail polish was chipping. He looked better that way, like she remembered him looking.

"Finally come to see me, Pet?"

"I'm sorry about that. But I'm here now."

"You've talked to Willow. She told me so." His chained hands clasped over his knees.

Buffy nodded. "We talked."

"And you see now, it's the way things should happen?"

Walking the length of the basement, she turned, taking in his striking figure. The jet black of his clothes clashing with the white of his skin. The darkness of his eyebrows just below the bleached blonde of his hair.

"What color was your hair, before?" she asked.

He frowned. "What?"

"Your hair. Before you bleached it. What color was it?"

He ran a hand over his hair. "Brown."

Buffy squinted, imagining Spike with brown hair, she shook her head, making a face. "Definitely better this way."

He laughed. "Guess so. It's been so long, I don't think I'd know how to be a brunette anymore. Although, Harmony's infectious Blondie Bear did have me thinking about changing styling products."

Buffy turned again, walking to the far right of the basement. "I read about you."

"I don't have a diary, Pet."

"No. I read about you in the Watcher Diaries."

"Ah." He leaned against the wall, fishing out a cigarette. "Made for a good light read, did it?"

"A lot more dark than light I would say."

"We can't all be glowing balls of energy like the Niblet."

Her eyes moved towards the basement door, Dawn was upstairs watching _My Fair Lady _ with Andrew since she had missed out on last week's movie extravaganza. "Probably not."

Silence spanned between them. Finally, Spike broke it. "Did you like what you read, Love? All fun and games?"

"I can see you doing it."

"What?" His brow creased in confusion, he flicked the cigarette to the ground with a well practiced motion. Buffy stepped on it, grinding the butt into nothing.

"Everything, I can see it clear as day. I know you. I know what you look like in a fight, I can read your body language like the back of my hand . . . if I had any idea what the back of my hand looked like." She threw her arms up, annoyed by her momentary distraction. "The point is, I can see you doing it all. Killing those people. Torturing those girls. Murdering those slayers. I can see you doing it, I can see you enjoying it. I can hear what you would have said, the way you would have laughed."

Spike opened his arms wide. "This is who I am, Love. All the ugly dirty things you ever had nightmares of, I've done them. I've enjoyed them."

"I know. I've always known that. Maybe not the full details, maybe not the gory brutality of it, but I always knew. That's why I could never trust you. You were a monster, no good deeds could cancel that out. It was all written there, in your eyes." Buffy wrapped her arms protectively around herself, pacing back in front of him.

He shifted his jaw, smiling without feeling. "The eyes are the portal to the soul and all."

"Something like that."

"So you see now, why I've got to die."

Buffy nodded. "I do."

The barest flicker of pain flashed across his face, it echoed in his eyes. She could see him withdrawing from her as if she had slapped him. "Then it's settled."

"It is."

"Bloody perfect." His hands balled into fists, he smacked his head back hard against the cement brick walls. "Now if you'll only leave me to die in peace." He squeezed his eyes shut.

Buffy watched him for a moment. He was able to hold pain in like no one she knew. She had thought Angel was the king of silent sorrow, but she could see now that it was Spike. His emotions ran closer to the surface, he wasn't hard pressed to cover his emotions, but the true pain, the one that split him to the core, he'd rather suffer it alone.

Quietly as she could, Buffy kneeled before Spike, in the space between his legs. His eyes opened at the glancing touch of her waist against the inside of his knee. "I thought I asked you to leave."

"When have you ever left when I asked?"

"I'm evil. I don't have to be polite." He stared down at her, his pale blue eyes watching her in agony. "What are you doing, Buffy?"

"Tell me you don't feel it."

Spike exhaled long and slow. "Shame, sorrow, guilt?"

Buffy shook her head. "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"Should I get out my Orphan Annie decoder?"

"When you came back, I felt it. It was how I knew something was different about you."

His eyes were fixed on her. "What did you feel?"

"What _do_ I feel? You feel it too. So you tell me, tell me you don't feel it. Tell me I'm imagining it and I'll let you die in peace. Even help you along if that's what you want. Just tell me you don't feel it."

"I don't feel it."

His words clenched around her chest, squeezing her insides. Heart physically aching, a dull thud against her ribs, Buffy began to get to her feet. As she straightened up, Spike grabbed her waist, pulling her into him as he stood up.

His lips were on hers before she had time to think of protesting. The kiss took all of Buffy's faculties away, she was only conscious of his lips, the taste of him, and how she should respond. The heat between them, which had before always simmered, exploded. They were grasping, clinging, impossible to separate.

Where he ended and where she started Buffy couldn't have said. That was the whole point. Buffy couldn't exist in a world where Spike wasn't there to foil her. He kept her honest, he drove her insane, he made her bleed, he reminded her that she was alive. Buffy gasped, dragging his mouth back down when his lips made the mistake of leaving hers.

Spike hoisted Buffy into his arms. Her legs locked around his back, her hair spilling over them, shielding them from the harsh basement light. Her heart raced against his chest as if trying to make up for the heart that didn't beat in his. She felt an anxious rush, one she hadn't felt before. Because Buffy wanted to crawl beneath his skin. She knew the horrible deeds he'd done, but she wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything about him.

Spike clung to her with the same frantic need and Buffy knew that the last of her walls, the ones that had kept even the best of friends at bay, crumbled before him. At that moment he wasn't William the Bloody, he was William the Conqueror.

An eternity seemed to pass before they finally separated, slid back down into two people. All they had done was kiss, nothing more, but it said everything.

Buffy tilted her neck to the side. Spike stared at it, he brought his mouth down, his tongue licked a line up the smooth skin, sending shivers down her spine. Finally, he pressed his lips to the place where her pulse beat. She had bent left, not right, so that he would bite skin unblemished by other vampires.

Buffy tensed, waiting for the pain.

It didn't come.

A puff of breath against her moist skin, then nothing. Spike grasped her shoulders. "You need to tell the others, before we do this."

She stepped back. "Tell them what?"

"That I've decided to go on not living, that I've asked you to save me. That I've asked you to let me bite you."

Heat spiked in her core. Buffy decided to worry about that later. "Tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night," he repeated.


	13. Chapter 13

They were all around the kitchen table, with the exception of Anya, eating Chinese, suspicious glances flying left and right. The Scoobies weren't treated to Chinese unless something serious was going on. "Okay," Xander said, breaking the impasse. "What's up? Whose dying? What apocalypse is coming? Who is dating a demon?"

All eyes centered on Buffy. She put down her chopsticks, wiping her mouth on her napkin. "I'm going to save Spike."

"You're what?" Xander asked in shock.

"But – But I thought he . . ." Willow looked to the basement then back to her best friend.

Dawn smiled slightly. "I kind of figured."

Andrew didn't say anything, just kept eating his Kung Pow Chicken.

"We talked it over. It's what we both want."

Xander shoved back from the table, standing up. "This is just – Buffy how can you? After all you know about him! What he did!"

"What about Anya?" Buffy countered. "Her track record is hardly clean. But you seem to want her around."

"That's different! She's not a demon anymore. She reformed, really reformed. Spike – he – he will always be a monster!"

"Anya isn't exactly a Pretty Pretty Princess, Xander," Dawn said quietly.

"Stay out of this!" He glared at her.

Buffy jumped up. "Hey! You need to watch it, Xander. This is my house, that is my sister. If you have a problem with me, you take it out with me. But it doesn't matter what you say. This is what we've decided. Nothing is going to change my mind. I know Spike can be a good man. I'm going to help him achieve that, whether or not you support me."

"Of course we support you, Buffy," Willow said in rush. "It's just sudden, that's all. We thought Spike had –"

"Hell with sudden! It's stupid, that's what it is. I don't know what your thing is with vampires, Buffy, but you're putting us all in danger."

"Then you don't need to come around."

He stared at her, his chest heaving. "Is that how you want it? You'd pick that vampire over your friends?"

"I want you with me in this, Xander, but if you can't handle that, if you can't deal with who I plan to make a part of my life, then it's better for both of us if you just step down. I know you don't like Spike. I know you hate him. But he's here to stay. You need to deal or leave."

"Buffy! You don't – Xander, she doesn't –"

"Yes," Dawn stood, "she does. And she's right. It's her life. How long are we all going to try to interfere? When has Buffy ever knowingly led us into danger? Aren't we the one's usually messing up?"

To say Buffy was blown away by this grown up speech from her seventeen year old sister would be a vast understatement. "Thank you, Dawn."

Dawn grabbed Buffy's hand. "Always."

Xander shook his head. "I don't think this is right, Buffy. He's rejecting his soul, how can he be good if his soul is killing him?"

"It's a lot more complicated than that."

"Is anyone going to eat the last fortune cookie?" Andrew held it up. The group glared at him. "Alright then, I'll just have it."

"Xander, if this is what Buffy wants . . ." Willow chewed her lip.

"Then it's her decision to make, but I don't have to agree." He sat back down. Buffy let out the enormous breath she had been holding; she knew Xander would be the hardest to sway. "When are the festivities going down?"

Dawn and Buffy sat down as well. "Tonight."

Xander sighed. "I'm out of here." He left without another word. Buffy watched him go, knowing that one of her very best friends was possibly walking out of her life forever.

Willow got up, "I should talk to him." She stopped by the door as she shrugged on her coat. "You're sure of this, Buffy? This is what you both want?"

"I'm sorry, Willow, it is."

She gave Buffy a weak smile. "I hope it works."

"How much –"

"He'll know. When he's had enough, I mean. It all depends on the level of degradation." She swung the door shut after her.

"Do you want me to be there with you, in case things get, well, out of hand?" Dawn asked.

Buffy looked idly at her half-full container of fried rice. "No. I can handle it." She stood, clearing the plates. She kissed the top of her sister's head, "But thanks, Dawny."

Dawn hugged her. "No problem."

At ten, Dawn sat down to watch TV, Andrew joined her. "Is your homework done?" Buffy asked, leaning against the wall.

She nodded. "Yep. All finished, complete, finito."

"Ok, good. I'll see you in the morning. Love you."

"Love you too."

Dawn clicked on the TV and the theme song for Dawson's Creek overtook the room.

Before heading downstairs, Buffy changed into a pair of too big grey sweat pants and a black tank top. She pulled her hair back in a pony tail. Sitting in front of her vanity mirror, Buffy checked her reflection. Her cheeks were paler than normal and her eyes were too bright. She wasn't entirely calm at the thought of what she was about to do. Still, Buffy had made her decision and she wasn't going back on it.

Spike had pushed his cot out of the way to allow himself minimal space to pace in. A trail of cigarette butts surrounded his Doc Martens. He looked up at Buffy's descent, worry etched in the pull of his mouth.

"I've been thinking, maybe this isn't such a hot idea, Pet. Sure, I'd rather be undead than a pile of ash, but –"

"Willow says there isn't any specific amount of me you should, uh, drink. So it's going to be up to you to know when to stop."

He blanched whiter than his normal pallor. "Bloody hell! That sounds like something I am sodding incapable of doing."

Buffy met his eyes and held them. "I trust you, Spike."

He laughed shakily. "Not sure you should, Pet. After all, I'm only a demon."

"A demon with a soul. Big difference."

He stubbed out his cigarette only to light up another. "So, where are we doing this shindig?"

"The cot, I guess. And we'll keep you chained up in case you go berserk and try to kill everyone." Buffy pushed it back into place.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Slayer."

She gave him a wry smile. "You didn't expect me to be all sunshine and honey did you? It would totally mar the slayer image."

Buffy walked up to him, taking the cigarette from between his lips and tossing it to the ground where she stamped it out. "You'll take me standing, if I start to go faint or anything, lie me down on the cot. I want to do this for you, but I don't want it to seem like –"

He pinched his eyes closed, then opened them. "You don't have to say it, Buffy. I know."

She nodded. "Okay."

They eyed each other. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Her heart accelerated to uncertain speeds. "Yes."

"I love you, Buffy," Spike said before he grabbed her to him, one hand on her waist, pulling her hips into him, the other hooked around her neck, baring her flesh to him. She gasped, her hands curling into fists then relaxing, unsure of what they should do. Buffy heard his growl and knew it was coming. She braced herself.

When Angel had bitten her, there was a sharp sting followed by an alarming amount of blood draining. When Dracula had bitten her, it had been all pretense, a pleasurable teasing of what was to come. When Spike bit her, his teeth sliced through her skin so quickly, she only felt the barest slice, then he was drinking her. He sucked the blood from her veins and Buffy's breath caught, she wrapped her arms around him to hold him closer to her.

She sighed as her blood rushed from her and into Spike. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't exactly a walk in the park either. It was somewhere in between, pleasurable because she knew she was helping Spike, pleasurable because he wanted to make it so for her, but still painful because this wasn't something she wanted as a vampire slayer, no matter the vampire, being bitten wasn't a good thing to her inner slayer.

Buffy's head started to spin, her knees grew weak, she could no longer see the basement, she saw only black.

Then in a flash of white, Buffy saw Spike. He was standing there, fighting the tongue demon, Dawn was tied to the crane, the portal was opening. Spike threw a punch, so did the tongue demon, Spike was thrown from the crane, Dawn crying out to him. A new image flashed before her; Spike watching her come down the stairs after being resurrected; his agony as he looked at her hands, at violent odds with his elation that she was alive. Then Buffy flashed to their first kiss, the way it really did make him feel alive again, as if the blood in his veins was rushing.

A mirage of images passed in rapid succession after that, sometimes blurring into one another, but they were always images of the two of them, or pertaining to them. The final image was their kiss in mausoleum last week, Buffy felt what Spike felt, that he was a man for the first time in 128 years, she felt the painful burden of love burning inside him.

Then she was falling, plummeting away.

* * *

"Buffy! Buffy!"

Someone was shaking her shoulders, it made her bones feel loose. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were too heavy to lift. She was enveloped in black, but it was warm and it was soft.

"Buffy!" The cry was sharp, making her ears hurt. She struggled against the black, wanting to stop the noise.

"Oh, god. Buffy, please wake up. Please."

The light was harsh, blinding her before everything came into focus. She could feel a weight on her chest; Buffy lifted her head slightly, feeling a sting at the movement. Her hands sought out the object weighing her down, running over hair and smooth skin.

"Spike?"

He jolted upright, standing over her, his mouth stained red with her blood. "Buffy?"

She reached up, wiping his mouth clean. "How's the soul?"

He laughed hoarsely, dropping down next to her again. Buffy's fingers went to her neck, but Spike gently pulled them away. "I need to put a bandage on your neck."

"But your soul?"

Spike raised his shirt up so Buffy could see his unblemished chest. All traces of his wounds, all of the black lines, had reverted to perfect white skin. "Good as new, Precious."

She smiled at the new pet name and his healed body. "Except for this," her fingers ran over the scar in his eyebrow, her favorite of his attributes.

He shrugged. "Got what I deserved, I expect." He watched her, checking her breathing and her color. "Do you feel alright?"

"Tired, but otherwise, just as slayery as ever."

He smiled. "You had me worried. Went all wonky on me. I've never had someone talk to me while I was . . . drinking them."

"Talk?" Buffy frowned.

"Yeah." He got up, holding his hands out to her. Buffy took the key from the back pocket of her sweat pants and unchained him. Spike went to the laundry cabinet to take out bandages. "You were murmuring up a storm. Kept repeating my name and . . . other things. Took a bit of the fun out of drinking from a willing slayer. Made me feel like your heart wasn't in it."

Buffy made a face. "You are too much like new I would say."

"Careful what you wish for, Love." He opened the bandaged and steadied it against her neck, pressing it firmly in place. Buffy winced at the unwanted pressure. His worried eyes caught her pain. "Sorry," he said quietly.

Spike helped her sit up. They took each other in; Buffy wondered how she never knew before how entangled his life was with hers. How he had twisted his fabric so that she was essential to his pattern.

Reaching forward, Spike brushed the hair from her face. "Thank you, Buffy."

She cupped his chin. "You're welcome, Spike."

He lifted his scarred eyebrow, Buffy nodded. His lips met hers in an innocent kiss.

"How much did you have to drink?" she asked when they separated.

"I don't think you're in any danger of needing a blood transfusion. It was just a couple of sips really. But you went rigid once you stopped talking, so I laid you on the cot. Had me worried, you did."

"What's life without a few unwanted surprises along the way?" Buffy made to stand, but wobbled in the process. Spike scooped her up in his arms without any warning.

"Just let me do this for you," he admonished before she could protest.

Biting back her defiance, Buffy allowed him to carry her up the stairs and into her bed. When Spike turned to go, she stopped him with her hand on his wrist. "Stay?"

He scoped her carpeted floor. "I've slept on worse."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Don't be a dope." She pulled the sheets back on her bed.

"Who else has had the honor?" he asked.

Buffy frowned. "Does it matter?"

His features clouded. "Guess I'm not that special after all."

"Oh shut up, you stupid vampire." She tossed her pillow at him.

Spike's hand shot out, catching it easily. "Stupid vampire? You cut me to the quick, Slayer."

"Either get in or get out."

He tugged off his boots, leaving them by the door. Pillow under his arm, he climbed in next to her. He lay on his back, Buffy curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest, one arm slung possessively over his waist.

"Goodnight, you big idiot."

Spike laughed quietly. "Goodnight, Precious." He kissed her temple. Buffy decided that she rather liked this new nickname. As far as she knew, it was special for her, one he hadn't said to Dursilla or any other girl for that matter. "Thanks for believing I was worth saving."

She squeezed him. "You would have kept me around, even if I was a zombie when I came back. Call it even."

His right hand drifted up to her hair, his fingers running through the golden strands. With his left arm, he covered hers, drawing patterns with his thumb on her elbow. Buffy was asleep in seconds.

* * *

Buffy awoke to a chorus of curses. "Ow! Ow! Shit! Bloody hell! Ow!"

Spike jumped from the bed, hitting the floor hard. "Bollocks!" he scrambled around to Buffy's side of the bed, hunched over, panting.

"Are you okay?" she asked alarmed, bending down to see him.

He grinned wryly up at her. "Forgot about the sun."

Buffy twisted back to see sunlight streaming in through her open blinds. "Oh god! I'm so sorry. I didn't think to shut them last night."

"A man might get funny ideas about you," he joked.

Vaulting over to the window, Buffy pulled the blinds closed. "Better?"

Spike raised his hand. It didn't start smoking. "Better."

She picked up her alarm clock. It was six. She shut the alarm off which was set to start buzzing in five minutes. "I've got to get ready for work."

"Right." Spike started to stand, misinterpreting her words as a brush off. Buffy slung her arms around his neck, keeping him pinned against her bed. She crawled to the edge of the bed, hanging her head over his; she kissed him. He readily kissed back, their lips moving in perfect synchronization.

Buffy ended the kiss, licking her bottom lip, enjoying the taste of leather, tobacco, and oak. "What should I wear?"

Spike glanced at Buffy's wardrobe. "Something that reminds me of my mother."

She grimaced. "Uhm, ew."

He was already thumbing through her clothes. "She wore high collars and skirts that reached the ground. The perfect look for a woman who isn't interested in –"

"Possessive much?" Buffy asked, moving to her vanity. She leaned forward, tugging the band-aid away from her neck. Spike came up behind her, their eyes meeting in the mirror. He ran his thumb over Buffy's newest scar. It was pearly white and shaped like a kiss.

"I guess you'll be needing that high neck."

"Scars add intrigue." Buffy went to her closet taking out a billowing black skirt and red blouse.

Spike frowned. "You don't want to opt for something more –"

"Let it go, Spike. Let it go."

He grabbed her hips, reeling Buffy to him. Tilting his face, he kissed her mouth, then moved to the corner of her lips, then to the corner of her jaw, working his way down, kiss by kiss to her scar. "How do you feel?"

"Full of blood . . . er, fine. I feel fine."

He smirked. "I like you full of blood."

"Let's not. Okay. Too weird for this early."

"I'll see you later, Precious." He kissed her scar once more then left her to get ready for work.

* * *

During work, Bufy's hand kept going to the scar on her neck, tracing the raised skin. It didn't freak her out. She rather liked it actually. A piece of her belonged to Spike and it was marked on her body now; just like the piece of her that belonged to Angel.

The students Buffy met with didn't pose any serious problems, too many tardies, a fight in the cafeteria, normal stuff. When the day ended though, she found herself drawn to the basement. After packing up her things, Buffy traveled down to the musty depths, unsure of what she was looking for, but knowing it was there somewhere.

Slowly but surely, she made her way back to the furnace room. She twisted the handle, opening the door. A shaft of light from the hallway illuminated the space. He was crouched down, his back to her, but the tattoo on his shoulder gave him away.

"Angel?"

He turned to Buffy, his features vicious, his eyes yellow. "It's coming, Buffy."

She tensed, moving away from the room, unsure of what she was seeing.

"And when it does, it will devour you." He grinned. "You think Spike can protect you? Bide your time, Buffy. It's coming." The lights went out.

She jumped back, desperate to get her bearings in the dark, but before she could, the lights flickered back on and the room was empty. Buffy raced out of the basement, pushing her way through a crowd of students to Dawn's locker. Dawn was laughing with Davie Smith, his student file had contained an accurate picture of him.

"Dawn," Buffy grabbed her arm, "we've got to go."

"Hey! Wait, I'm talking to –"

"Now, Dawn," Buffy tugged her.

Dawn shot her sister a venomous. "I'm sorry, Davie. My sister get's weird when I talk to boys. See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Uh, sure," he said, watching Buffy warily.

Buffy snatched up Dawn's backpack, still dragging her as Buffy headed down the hallway. "Let go!" Dawn yanked her arm from Buffy who kept moving forward. "Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

"Dawn, not now."

She kept pace with her older sister, having to run a little. "That was Davie Smith, in case you didn't notice, and we were having a perfectly normal conversation until you showed up acting like the Hulk."

"Dawn. Not now." Buffy grabbed her sister's arm again and hustled her out of the school.

Dawn didn't talk to Buffy on the ride home, choosing to sit in angry silence instead. Pulling into the driveway, Buffy didn't wait for Dawn to get out of the car. She slammed the door behind her and jogged into the house, heading straight for the phone.

Buffy's fingers dialed in the number she seldom used. He picked up on the second ring.

"Buffy? What's wrong?"

"Are you in Los Angeles?" she asked curtly.

"What? Of course I am."

"You aren't in Sunnydale right now."

"No. Why, should I be?" he asked in confusion.

"Buffy?" A voice asked from behind her, "Everything alright, Pet?"

"Is that Spike?" Angel asked in shock.

"I don't have time for this," Buffy said to both of them. "I need to know, are you in Sunnydale right now, Angel?"

"Angel!" Spike growled.

"I know that's Spike. What's going on, Buffy?"

"Answer me!" she shouted.

"Hey. Calm down, it's alright, okay. I wasn't in Sunnydale. I haven't been in Sunnydale since. . . since you're mom passed." Buffy could almost imagine Angel holding up his hands in defense, talking her down.

Her fingers were numb from holding the phone so tightly. "I just saw you."

Silence echoed on all fronts.

"What do you mean?"

"In the basement of Sunnydale High. You were there. I talked to you."

"Buffy, Sunnydale High burned down, remember? We fought the huge mayor snake?" Angel spoke slowly as if Buffy might have some mental deficiency.

"They re-built it. I'm not crazy, Angel."

"Okay. Let's go through this step-by-step, what happened?"

In painful detail Buffy went over her urge to go to the basement, her trek down, and ultimately seeing Angel; Angel listened patiently, while Spike listened from her end.

"Right. Well, despite my many other skills, we both know that I can't disappear, so have you talked to Willow about this?"

"No . . . I had to be sure, I had to . . . I'm sorry, Angel."

"It's fine, I understand. Talk to Willow and give me a call if you figure anything out. I don't like the idea of somebody else walking around as me."

"I will." She hung up.

"Buffy?" Spike rested his hand tentatively on her shoulder. Buffy started, jerking around to see him. He took a step back, his expression dower.

She inhaled deeply. And then the tears started, first burning against her eyes, then spilling over. Buffy curled herself around Spike in a hug. He held her close, his cheek pressed against the top of her head, whispering soft reassurances that she didn't for a moment believe.


	14. Chapter 14

**A.N. **Major thanks to those of you who left reviews! They are always awesome to read and make updating more fun for me =] Special thanks to bowlingforvampires whose comment sincerely made my day! You are the best =] Anyway, hope you like the chapter, it has a little fluff because I felt fluff was needed, so enjoy.

* * *

They sat across from each other, a mug of tea in front of Buffy, which Spike had made. He had insisted on making it, saying something illegible about women and tea. Buffy felt it better not to ask.

She shook her head, her fingers locked around the warm mug. "I don't know why it freaked me out so much. He didn't touch me, he didn't even say anything definite, but it was the feeling I got. The all consuming fear that Angelus was back; that weird connection I had to the basement. I couldn't have denied it . . . like that time we couldn't leave the house."

Spike rested his elbows on his knees, frowning. "He said it would devour you?"

Buffy nodded. "Not like there aren't hundreds of evil things that devour. You devour."

"I do not!" he replied indignantly. She quirked her eyebrow at him. "Oh, alright. I've been known to devour a person or two."

"My point is, whatever he, it was talking about, I can feel it. It's in the energy around us . . ."

"Yeah, well, got to agree with you there, Precious. I thought the energy was just the whole soul killing me off thing, but I can feel it stronger now. Which is why you were on about the William the Bloody talk, yeah?"

"Yes, I mean no. I don't want you out there killing people, but I don't want you beating yourself up either. Whatever this new evil is, I'm not going to be able to take it on my own. The days are way past when I was facing the Master or killing Angel. This is something big and something strong. I need you, the real you, fighting beside me."

Spike reached across the table, covering her hands with his. "Whatever it is, Love, we'll figure it out. You noble types always do."

"Uhm, sorry to cut in on cuddle time," Andrew said. Spike and Buffy jolted apart as if electrocuted. "But I thought you'd want to know, Buffy, that Dawn just crawled out the window."

"What?" Buffy jumped to her feet, running to the front door. Wrenching it open, she saw Dawn slipping into the passenger seat of a black car. Buffy started to run after her, but the car was already speeding down the street.

"Andrew!" Buffy shouted, returning to the house at top speed. "Did she say what she was doing?"

"Well," he thought this over, "she came into my room, told me to mind my own business, and something about a Davie Smith."

Buffy sagged against the door frame relieved. "Fine. If she wants to go out with Davie Smith, that's up to her, but doing so without my permission guarantees she's grounded when she gets home."

"Who's grounded?" Willow asked, traipsing through the open door.

"Dawn," Andrew eagerly said, "she ran off with Davie Smith so now Buffy is going to ground her."

"But – but I thought we liked Davie?"

"We do, we don't like when Dawn doesn't ask permission before going out with a normal boy."

"Normal boy?" Spike asked. "That would be a first for a Summers' woman wouldn't it?"

"Shut up, Spike." Buffy slammed the front door closed.

"Because, didn't you tell me your mom dated a robot?"

"Oh! Ted!" Willow nodded vigorously.

"Leave my mom out of this!" Buffy glared at Spike.

He smirked. "Guess I'm not the only one who . . ."

"Spike!"

He's smirk widened. "Just saying, Love." He got up, brushing past her so Buffy could feel the play of his fingers against her waist, then headed down to the basement.

She fought the urge to follow him, knowing there were far more important things to take care of. "Andrew, sit," Buffy pointed to the couch. He obliged. "Willow, we need to talk."

She told them both about the Angelus incarnation. Andrew sat on his hands, bobbing up and down to express his need to talk. When she finished, he blurted out, "That's just what happened to me! Except, you didn't kill your best friend . . . But! Warren showed up and you know, he's dead so –"

"Dead!" Willow flailed her hand. "Angel and Warren are both dead, Angel's more of a technicality, but point of fact is he's dead."

Buffy frowned. "But why would the evil impersonating ghost warn us that something is coming?"

"I don't think it was warning you, Buffy, I think it was taunting you. You said yourself that you can feel the evil in the air. It knows you know it's there. It wanted to play with you."

"Is this something we can research? Books on impersonating ghosts?"

Willow looked toward their bookcases. "I doubt it's something we'd have here, but the Magic Box might have something."

"So the ghost made me do it," Andrew said, more to himself than to the two women. "My hands are washed clean of the blood of the innocent."

"Andrew," Buffy stared at him in disbelieving disgust, "you killed Jonathon; a ghost might have told you to do it, but you were the one who stabbed him."

"Still," he said undaunted, "the plot thickens."

Willow and Buffy exchanged a look. "Right. Go back to your room, Andrew."

He trotted away. Once they were alone, Buffy asked Willow, "How's Xander?"

She gave Buffy wide eyes. "You know Xander. He's never been fond of any of your vampire friends. I would say he dislikes Spike more than Angel because of the whole . . . thing with Anya."

Cold slithered against Buffy's heart. "I don't think anyone was particularly . . ."

"Again, true. But, Xander feels like you're choosing Spike over your friends."

"Because I didn't want Spike to die?" Buffy asked incredulously.

She shrugged. "I guess so? I think Xander thinks you care more about Spike than you do about, well, him."

"That's ridiculous. Xander is one of my best friend's. Spike is just . . . he's just . . . Spike," Buffy finished lamely.

"I think until you figure out exactly what that means, what Spike being just Spike means, there are questions all of us have that are going unanswered. I'm not trying to pressure you, but you need to –"

"I've got it, Will. Thanks." Irritated, Buffy turned on her heel, leaving the house.

* * *

She walked for the half mile to the Magic Box. Anya greeted her with false cheeriness until she realized Buffy wasn't a potential customer. "Oh. It's you."

"Nice to see you too, Anya."

"Let any other vampires suck off you lately?"

"Cast any vengeance spells lately?"

They squared off.

"Xander's mad at you."

"Then I suggest he bring it up with me."

"He's stupidly loyal to you, you know."

"And he's stupidly in love with you."

Anya sighed. "Is there something you need?"

"I need books on ghosts who can impersonate the dead."

"What?" Anya looked at Buffy like she was crazy. Buffy groaned, this is why things were easier when they were a cohesive group, Buffy only had to tell the story once instead of three times or more. Still, Buffy recounted her adventures and her belief in their connection to Andrew's.

When Buffy finished, Anya walked to the wall of bookshelves. She ran her hand over the multiple covers, pulling several out a random. She ended up handing Buffy a pile of five books. "There should be something in there, otherwise, we don't have anything on it."

"Thanks," Buffy said.

"You're welcome. But, if you don't bring back the book on Spike, I'm going to charge it to your account." Anya whirled around, going back to the cash register.

"Trust me, it's not a book I want to keep. I'll bring it back tomorrow after school."

"Fine."

* * *

Opening the front door to the Summers' residence, Buffy heard Dawn talking excitedly to Willow. Buffy deposited the books on the dining room table, following the sound of voices up to Dawn's bedroom.

"And then he kissed me! Can you believe it? Our first hang out and he kisses me. So that's like a two kiss relationship! It was so romantic, one minute he's like, 'Uh, I like your hair,' the next he's kissing me!"

"Yes, that sounds . . . really romantic," Willow said.

Buffy knocked on the door. Dawn turned around, her happiness fading. "What do you want?"

"First, to tell you you're grounded," Dawn started to protest but Buffy talked over her, "and second, to tell you that it's generally a good idea to save the kissing until he's officially asked you out."

"Why are you ruining this?" Dawn cried. "You act like a complete freak at school and now you're grounding me?"

"You didn't ask me if you could go out with Davie Smith. You know that's one of the rules, so yeah, you're grounded. And I didn't act like a freak at school –"

"Yes, you did! Davie asked me if you had a mental problem or had been recently released from prison."

"What? Prison?" Buffy looked down at her outfit. "Why prison?"

"The whole macho-woman thing." Dawn flopped down on her bed. "And I was going to ask you, but Davie was already here and I didn't want you to say no, so . . ."

"So you shimmed down the – on second thought, what did you shimmy down?" Buffy looked toward her windows.

"Like I would tell you."

It suddenly dawned on her why Dawn had talked to Andrew, she had gone out through his window, which was really even more concerning because it suggested how easily Andrew could escape. However, Buffy chalked it up to a fear of heights or falling to his death that Andrew had thus far not tried Dawn's daring escape.

"Either way, you're still grounded."

"And Buffy had good reason to spazz," Willow said in her friend's defense.

For the fourth time, Buffy explained the basement. Dawn remained impassive. "And what? You thought the ghost was going to attack us?"

"Like the last ghosts in the basement did? Uh, yeah."

She frowned. "You said we destroyed them."

"We did, but that doesn't mean –"

"Okay, okay. But next time, can't you just wave me over frantically or something? I really like Davie Smith and I don't want your possible prison background messing this up."

"I have not been to prison!" Buffy said emphatically. "Faith! Faith is in prison, not me."

"You did switch bodies that one time," Willow pointed out.

"So not helping, Will."

"Sorry." She slunk from the room.

"We'll talk about this after dinner, okay?" Buffy gave Dawn her hardest older sister look.

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, whatever."

Having accomplished her sisterly duty, Buffy went after Willow, showing her the books Anya had suggested. "Great," Willow said, flipping through the book on top. "I'll get started on these, it would help if Xander and Anya could stop by tonight, after your patrol, we could get through the books faster that way. Maybe you should call, Xander." She glanced at Buffy from the corner of her eyes.

"Smooth, Will, really smooth."

She blushed, but Buffy went to the phone anyway. She dialed in Xander's number and held her breath while the phone rang.

"Xander here."

"Hey, it's me."

"Buffy? Oh. What's up?" There was the barest edge to his words, but she heard it all the same.

"We have a research situation."

"I'm not going to do research for Spike."

Buffy froze for a moment. "It's not about – it's something else, okay. But if you –"

"Sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. If it's unrelated to Spike, I can help out. When do you need me?"

Buffy looked at Willow, she was already buried nose deep in a book. "Does around nine work for you?"

"Okay. I'll swing by beforehand and get Anya, then we'll be over."

"Great. And Xander, thanks."

He was silent, then, "You're welcome, Buffy."

Willow pretended to be uninterested when Buffy came back into the dining room. However, a minute was long enough to break her. "So? What did he say?"

"He and Anya are in on Scooby time."

She smiled. "Good. So, this allows for the perfect amount of veg time before patrol time during which I can complain to you about my classes while silently loving all things academic?"

Buffy smiled. "Totally."

* * *

At eight, Buffy was jogging down the stairs, thinking Spike might want to join her on patrol. "Spike?" she called when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

His back was to her, he had the basement window propped open, and he was smoking. "Need something?" He sounded weird. Not vampire weird, but definitely weird.

"Uh," Buffy looked at him curiously, "yeah actually."

"What can 'just Spike' do for you?" He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes glinting darkly.

Exhausted annoyance swept over her. "Can we not do this?"

"You don't want to fight it out because I'm just Spike? Sure, Pet. Whatever you want." He turned back to the window.

Buffy tapped her foot on the cement floor. "If you have something to say, just say it."

"It's a house, Buffy. Made of wood and stone. If you've got secrets, this isn't the place to share them."

"What secret, Spike?"

He snorted. "You can't get rid of me because I'm just Spike? Endearing, really."

Buffy slapped her hands against her sides. "You're such an idiot. Did the hundred years of bleach fumes kill off some of your brain cells or were you always this pigheaded?"

"What's with the pig motif? Why are you always comparing me to a pig?" He turned around, his expression cold.

"Because you act like a pig! I don't know!"

"So it's just Spike, the pig then is it?"

"Shut up!" She crossed the room in three strides, grabbing his chin in her hand. "I don't know why I bother with you." Then she kissed him.

Spike started to give in, Buffy could feel him kissing her back briefly, then he shoved her off of him. "No! No more. I'm tired of being just Spike. Just Spike the easy lay. Just Spike the punching bag. Just Spike the stupid vampire with a soul. I need more than that."

"What do you want, Spike?"

He dashed the cigarette butt to the ground. "I want you, Buffy. I've always wanted you."

She spread her arms wide open. "You have me."

His pale blue eyes pierced her green ones. "No one's ever had you, Buffy. Angel didn't, Riley knew he didn't, and I don't have you now."

Her arms fell back to her sides. She tilted her neck to the left; his gaze went straight to the bite mark. "You have me."

Spike came to Buffy as if pulled magnetically; one hand cradling her head, the other slipping into her back pants pocket, keeping her body against him. He ran the tip of his nose against the line of her soft throat.

"Do you trust me?" his breath puffed against her vulnerable skin.

"With my life."

He pressed a soft kiss to the bite scar just before his teeth sliced Buffy's skin open anew.

The second bite was much different from the first. Buffy wasn't sucked into the portal of Spike's thoughts; he was pulled into hers. Buffy saw him hanging from the cross, lying in her arms, huddled on the basement floor of the school, chained to her basement wall, pressed against her as he slept, and his face when he saw her for the first time after she was resurrected.

Spike's tongue flicked across her broken skin, the whole process over in less than thirty seconds. He wasn't drinking for hunger, he was drinking because Buffy had offered herself to him. Arms still around her, he dropped his face to look in her eyes. Cautious hope reflected out of them.

She kissed him, ignoring the taste of her own blood; he returned her kiss with insatiable hunger, the same hunger Buffy felt for him, the one that had her twisted up with the desire to crawl beneath his skin.

Spike rested his forehead against her, stalling their kiss. "I love you, Buffy."

She snaked her hand up between them, placing it against his chest. "Then trust me when I say, you have me."

She waited for this to soak in before making her request. "So, I'm doing this crazy thing tonight called patrolling and I had this even crazier notion of asking you to go with me. What do you say, William?"

He grinned. "Killing things. That's an enticing offer."

"Ah, I'm so glad you're in it for the right reasons, you know, ridding the world of evil and danger," Buffy teased.

"No point in being noble if you don't enjoy the killing." Spike kissed her swiftly.

Releasing Buffy, he went to the laundry cabinet, returning with a band-aid. Holding it up for her approval, Spike tore open the package, letting the paper flutter to the ground as he stuck the band-aid to her neck.

"Thanks," she said, running her fingers over the latex.

Eyes holding hers, he bent and kissed the band-aid. A shiver ran down Buffy's spine. Everything between them was so raw, no pretenses. It was something she had never experienced before and it left her feeling alarmingly vulnerable.

"Let's go," she started up the stairs.

* * *

When they got to the cemetery, Buffy decided to lay down some rules. It was all fine and dandy to go along getting to know Spike at a snail's pace, because honestly, she didn't know tons about him and even with his obsessive stalker behavior the past couple of years, he didn't know her all too well either.

Of course they knew the major things about each other, the darkness that lived inside them both. But Buffy was more interested in the boring details for right now.

The way that she knew Willow had a fear of frogs and had nightmares of forgetting her lines to a play on an alarmingly frequent basis. The way that she knew Angel really did get huffy if you messed with his hair, which she could totally understand, it had to be hard to style your hair without a reflection. The same way she knew Giles had a secret passion for playing guitar and singing at open mic nights at cafes.

These were the kinds of things you knew about the people you cared about, the people you loved. Not that she loved Spike, but she did care about him, a lot actually.

So, as she leaned against the entrance to the cemetery, she pressed her hand against Spike's chest to hold him in place. "Here's the deal. You stake the vamp, you get to ask the question. I stake the vamp, I get to ask the question."

Spike quirked his scarred eyebrow, cigarette in his left hand. "What kind of question?"

"Any kind. Favorite movie, biggest fear, whatever."

He inhaled then held the smoke in his lungs for a second. "Deal." It was an exhale of smoke.

Annoyed, Buffy fanned the offensive pollution from her face. "Game on, then."

When they came across their first unsuspecting vampire, they went after him with unusual ruthlessness. There was barely enough time for clever banter before Buffy was plummeting her stake into the vampire's chest. When he exploded in a puff of ash, she turned to Spike.

"How often do you have to dye your hair?"

He laughed, one hand running over his bleached locks. "That's what you want to know?"

"Answer the question."

"Every couple of weeks."

"That is so weird."

"Oh, right, because you wearing prissy outfits to go slaying in is the height of normalcy," he snorted and headed deeper into the cemetery.

Buffy ran after him, jumping easily onto Spike's back where she set about musing his carefully gelled hair into a mess of curls. "Don't you dare insult my fashion!"

"Oi!" Spike shouted, trying to throw the slayer off his back. "Stop that!"

"Make me," Buffy taunted, fingers raking through the stiff curls.

Grabbing both of her wrists, Spike threw her over, capturing her against his chest before she hit the ground. "You are a bloody pest, Slayer," he groused, easing her to the ground then trying to repair the damage to his hair.

Buffy glared at him. "I can't believe you insulted my clothes!"

He rolled his eyes. "Buffy, I own two pairs of pants and five shirts. What do you care what I think of your clothes?"

She pouted. "I don't. It's just . . ."

Spike gave his hair up as a lost cause and fixed his attention on the petite blonde before him. Her expression clued him into the situation he had inadvertently stepped into. "Er – no, you're right. Your clothes are great. Very fashionable and uh girly."

Buffy stared incredulously. "Girly?"

He made an exasperated sound. "Bloody hell, Buffy, I don't know. I think you're beautiful with or without clothes, though I prefer the latter. I'm not good at boyfriend bollocks. All I had to tell Dru was that I loved her from eyeballs to entrails, not exactly the stuff of love poems, Pet."

"Did you just call yourself my boyfriend, Spike?"

Had he been capable of it, Buffy knew Spike would have blushed. "Right – what I meant was –"

She stepped closer to him, looping her arms around his waist and leaning away from him. It was incredibly fun to be this playful with him. Things had never been light between them before, they had always been obscured by the dark. "Because that would make me your girlfriend."

"Yeah – well –"

"And I don't exactly remember you asking me out."

"Bloody hell, Buffy!" He flashed to vampire features then back again. "You are the most annoying bint –"

"Hey!" She jerked him toward her with a severe look of disapproval.

Spike groaned. "I love you, Buffy. Now shut the hell up and agree to be my sodding girlfriend!"

She smiled impishly. "Well, when you ask so nicely –"

"Vampire!" Spike threw Buffy to the ground, vaulted over the grave that separated him from his prey, and went on the offensive.

Buffy scrabbled to her feet. "Not fair! We both need an equal chance of –" she threw a punch as the vampire reeled in her direction, "staking it or it doesn't –" Spike shoved Buffy out of the way again and staked the vampire, "count."

He stood upright, wiping off the ashes on his pants. "Can't help it if you're slow on the uptake, Slayer. Might be getting a bit dawdling in your old age. Now, about my question." Spike slipped his hand into Buffy's and pulled her along with him towards the west side of the cemetery. "How attached are you to that bollocks about normal?"

From hair treatments to life goals, Buffy guessed they didn't exactly have the same curiosities in mind. "Depends on what you qualify as normal. Slaying isn't exactly the height of normal and when I was younger yeah I might have wasted endless hours daydreaming of normal. But honestly, after you die for the second time, you're kind of forced to give up the whole prospect. I'll leave normal to Dawn. She can be the one to get married and have cute little babies. I'll be that cooky aunt that likes to play with pointy objects and has the centuries old boyfriend with a deadly allergy to the sun."

"You saying your nixing motherhood and marriage completely?" He squinted down at her in surprise. "Never pinned you for a quitter, Precious."

Buffy sighed, squeezing his hand affectionately. "It's not giving up. Or at least, I don't look at it that way. My life isn't going to be normal, and it's not ever going to be safe. I don't want to bring a bundle of pink joy into this world that by virtue of having me for a mother would automatically have a price on her head. And marriage? I have yet to see an outstanding representation of this myth. My mom and dad? So not Cinderella and Prince Charming. Anya, Xander, and the not wedding? Yeah that was encouraging." She stopped, turning him to face her. "Why? You got any marriage plans lurking around that I should know about?"

Spike laughed. "Sorry, Pet. Not huge on marriage myself. What with the churches and their bloody crosses waiting to burn me up, pools of holy water waiting to sizzle off my skin."

Buffy smiled. "Aw, but you were so excited when we were planning our wedding."

"Yeah, you have Red and Red alone to thank for that."

Spike stooped to kiss her, a gentle kiss that progressed into something more heated. His tongue sliding sensually against hers and Buffy curled her arms around him, loving the feel of his muscled biceps crushing her against him. She moved up onto her tip toes to reach him better, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip then sucking to placate the bite. Spike growled appreciatively into the kiss; they separated languidly.

"Okay, boyfriend, time to get back to the house," Buffy said with a sigh of regret.

Spike looked back down at his girl. "Hot date?"

"We've got research to do. Are you going to help?"

"I had other things in mind for the evening . . ." he trailed off suggestively.

Buffy tilted her face up, kissing his lips. "Books now." She took his hand in hers.

"Fine," he sighed, letting her dragging him back through the cemetery. "But I'll have you know, Slayer, I'm only doing this because you're my girlfriend."

Buffy's heart warmed at his words. She was Spike's girlfriend. Spike was her boyfriend. How weird. How perfect.


	15. Chapter 15

Buffy honestly have no idea how it happened. She had planned on being extremely professional and not letting her feelings for Spike get in the way of successful research, or showcasing said feelings in front of friend's who were less than perfectly understanding of the situation she found herself in.

Spike, Buffy, Willow, Anya, and Xander were gathered around the kitchen table, each with his or her own dusty tome of terribly boring and archaic writing on demons. Dawn was upstairs doing her homework, or at the very least, being punished for running out with Davie Smith by being banned from research with the grown-ups. However, Buffy was starting to suspect that her sister was actually watching TV with Andrew in the spare room, muffled laughter filtered down to them sounding a lot more like two people instead of one.

Buffy was sitting next to Spike, Willow was at the head of the table, Xander and Anya were across from them. Xander was keeping his eyes determinedly on the text, refusing to so much as look at Buffy or Spike. Buffy wasn't sure if she should be grateful or annoyed by this, but chose to be grateful since she was really quite tired of fighting with him.

The only sound in the room was the constant tick-tock of the clock that hung on the wall. Its incessant noise had Buffy suddenly considering ripping it from the wall and slaying it. Just as she was seriously thinking of getting to her feet to take care of the clock, Spike wove his fingers through hers.

The sensation of his cold skin against her warm skin jolted Buffy out of her clock killing fantasies. Buffy's left hand had been resting idly in her lap as she flipped page after page with her right. She looked down at their now intertwined hands; the gesture looked so normal. A girl holding hands with her boyfriend during a study party with her friends.

It freaked Buffy out a lot to realize this was one of the most normal moments she had had in the past seven years of relationships. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that her mouth was literally hanging open, because the look that Spike gave her when he glanced up was very disgruntled.

"You okay, Precious?" he asked so no one but Buffy could discern the words, his blue eyes probing her.

Buffy nodded dumbly. There was a rustling around the table as everyone shifted uncomfortably. "Find anything?" Willow asked with false cheer.

Buffy looked across to her, then to Xander and Anya. Anya was staring without shame at the band-aid on Buffy's neck. Buffy's fingers caressed it. Xander still had his face buried in the book, but the red hue of his ears told her he was not nearly as oblivious of Spike and her as he wanted to be.

Her brow furrowed. She could feel Spike's eyes burning into her. It was one of those freaky things he was always able to do, tell what was going on in her head before she did. He wasn't always right when it came to matters between them, but if Buffy was ever thinking of something objective, he was right there in the deep.

"Spike and I are together. Together, together."

The words just came out. Buffy had absolutely no intention of saying them, but there it was. They hung over the table, even more distressing than the ticking clock.

Anya was the first to react. "Yes. He bit you and you wanted him to bite you. Xander never let me bite him and I don't even have fangs."

"Not now, Anya." Xander slammed his textbook closed. His mouth was curled unpleasantly as he sized up Spike.

Buffy shook her head, trying to dislodge this weird sense of unreal that had settled over her. "I just thought – I just thought you should know. Because I'm happy. And – and I wanted you to know that."

Spike's fingers clenched around Buffy's almost painfully. She looked over at him, giving him a small smile. His eyes were so bright that her heart pinched.

"Buffy," Willow said. Buffy's focus shifted to her. Willow smiled at her, a smile that was purely genuine. "I already knew that."

Buffy laughed. Xander's attention was dragged away from Spike and to his best friend at the sound. "This is what you want? Even knowing?"

"I thought you would understand best of all." Buffy looked pointedly at Anya. "Her hands are anything but blood free."

Anya made a face. "Yes, that is very true. But I haven't tried to kill anyone in this room."

Xander's shoulders tensed. "Anya is not the same as him at all."

"No, mate," Spike said. "She only sought revenge for 1,000 years. I've been around for 130. I'd hate to compare death tallies."

"Don't you dare compare yourself to her!" Xander shoved back to his feet. "Anya – Anya . . ."

Spike released Buffy's hand, getting to his feet as well. The air crackled with their desire to punch it out. Buffy stood up, placing herself in front of Spike, letting her shoulder blades rest against his solid chest.

As a taunt to Xander, Spike wrapped his arms around Buffy's waist. She should have pushed him off, told him it wasn't the right time, but she couldn't. Because she was so tired of pretending to feel one way for her friends while feeling something entirely different with her heart.

"This is how it is, Xander. I'm not going to change my mind. If you can't take it, then you aren't the friend I thought you were. We can hit the books again tomorrow, but coming back is your decision." Taking Spike's hand in hers, Buffy left her three friends in the dining room and went to the kitchen.

When they were out of sight, Spike cornered her, his eyes still blazing. "And I thought you just liked having me around for the drama," he whispered.

Buffy rolled her eyes at him. "You don't think I have enough drama in my life?"

He shrugged. Bending, he kissed the skin behind her ear. "You always smell like roses."

This simple statement sent a zing of affection and longing through Buffy. "Three years and I've never heard you say that before."

"Yeah, well, thought it might be a bit poncy for you."

Buffy closed her eyes, breathing in his tobacco, leather, and oak mix. The leather was fading out since the duster had been dusted. "Right. Because a girl doesn't love hearing that she smells good, she'd rather be told she has stupid hair."

Spike laughed quietly, his empty air brushing over her cheek. "It is stupid. So shiny and soft, smelling like shampoo and washing out the rose smell." He curled Buffy's hair around his index finger, tugging lightly on it. "Thanks, Slayer."

"For?" She opened her eyes.

"For wanting them to know about me."

Buffy smiled genuinely. "I told you. You have me."

Spike's mouth slanted over hers. His lips were soft as they crushed hers; Buffy's hands went to his face, holding his jaw so that he couldn't leave until she was finished kissing him back. When they pulled apart, his blue eyes shone bright and Buffy realized why they looked different, they looked hopeful. They made her dizzy with their happiness.

"So what should I make Dawn for dinner?"

"Can you cook?"

"Minimally?"

"Like your driving skills? Because I've heard stories."

"Hey!" Buffy slapped his chest, he captured her hand, raising it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. "A girl can't be perfect."

"Then grilled cheese is probably a safe bet."

"Cool. You get the cheese and butter from the fridge." Buffy slipped her hands from his and got out the frying pan and bread. It was going to be a late dinner, but that was fairly common in the Summers home.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Dawn, Willow, and Buffy ate the grilled cheese that was half burnt and half un-melted cheese. No one said a word which only worried Buffy about how awful it really was. "Okay, next time I'll order take-out."

Dawn took a big bite. "No, Buffy. It really is good," she said as she chewed, her eyes squinting in a way that told Buffy her younger sister was one hundred percent lying.

"Ugh, I'm sorry. I'm really no good at the domestic stuff." Buffy dropped her partially eaten sandwich onto her plate. She hadn't eaten that much, but that had less to do with the black bread than because she was hungry for something very different.

Spike had retreated to the basement while Dawn set the table. Xander and Anya had left shortly after Buffy's declaration and Willow had gathered up all the textbooks, depositing them on the coffee table.

"He'll come around," Willow assured Buffy, but she didn't look all too certain.

"I can't help it, Will."

She hugged Buffy. "I know, and you shouldn't have to. We are your friends, not your parents or jailers. If this is what's right for you, then Xander has no right to be upset with it."

"Thanks."

"Of course."

Now Willow was picking dutifully at her grilled cheese. Buffy's best friend and sister were enduringly loyal if nothing else. "Seriously, if you think we should just order pizza –"

"God, yes!" Dawn jumped up, running full force for the phone.

"Well," Buffy sunk down in her chair. "I guess I'll strike world class chef off my list of dreams."

Willow smiled. "I had to cross sex with Brad Pitt off mine, you know, when I realized I was gay." They laughed. "How long is Dawn grounded for?" Willow asked.

"A week. Which is going to be hard to do since I'm not really home in the evenings, what with all the vampires rising from the grave at that time of day and everything." They heard Dawn happily ordering a large pepperoni and pineapple pizza.

"I can help you out, cover a few nights of sister watching."

"Thanks, Will," Buffy said gratefully.

"Hey, what else are best friends who happen to also be your roommate for?"

* * *

By ten o'clock Willow and Dawn were in bed. Buffy crept down the darkened stairs from her room to the main floor and from the main floor to the basement. She was just preparing to call out to Spike, sure that he had already seen, heard, or smelled her, when she heard an incongruous sound.

It was a whimper really, a distraught whimper. Buffy scampered across the basement, her feet stinging at the cold from the cement floor. Spike was curled up on the cot, his fingers digging into the opposite shoulders.

Buffy climbed up beside him, shaking his shoulder to wake him. He jerked at her touch and she saw, in the moon light managing to penetrate the basement windows, that his face was tear stained.

"Spike!" Buffy said, startled. In four years of close contact, she had never seen Spike cry. "Hey!" She shook his shoulders violently, but that didn't rouse him.

Feeling very badly about it the whole time, Buffy pulled her arm back and slapped him hard against his cut glass cheek bone. The sharp contact jolted him awake. He gasped, sitting up so quickly, he almost jostled Buffy off the cot. Instinctively, his arms shot out, wrapping around her and keeping her safe.

He blinked, seemingly confused. "Spike?" Buffy asked, kneeling so that she was steady on the cot and could see him better.

"I – I – Buffy?"

"Hey," she said gently, wiping away the tear stains with the heel of her palm. "It's okay. It was just a dream."

He shook his head, oblivious to her ministrations. "It wasn't a dream."

"What was it?"

"It was the past."

Buffy looked at him in confusion. "What, Baby?" The endearment came out as naturally as you please even though the moment she said it, Buffy wished she could drag the word back into her throat. Spike was definitely not going to want to be someone's Baby.

But if he noticed her faux pas, he didn't mention it. "My past. I kept seeing my past and what I had done." He started to tremble.

Buffy got off the cot, offering him her hand. "Come on, let's go to bed." He looked at her, wonderingly. "Come on, Spike."

Hesitantly, he placed his hand in hers. Buffy led him through the darkened house and up to her bedroom. She shut the door quietly behind them and drew the shades tightly down over all the windows, not wanting him to go up in flames again. Spike stood uncertainly in the center of the room between her closet and the bed.

Buffy took Spike's hand again, towing him to the bed. Pushing him down on the mattress, Buffy knelt down and untied each of his Doc Martens, slipping them off one at a time and lining them up in front of her closet. Then she drew his shirt off, tossing it onto her vanity chair. Finally, she eased Spike out of his jeans, discarding them with the shirt.

He watched her in silence. Buffy crawled into the bed then drew him down to her. His body curled naturally around hers, his head on her chest just above her clothed breasts, his arm wrapped tight about her waist, and his legs tangled with hers. Buffy stroked his hair with her right hand, while her left hand caressed his arm.

"You can sleep now," she said, pressing a kiss to his brow.

"You don't know . . . what I see, I can't sleep, can't stop the pain."

"It's okay," Buffy whispered. "You're forgiven, Spike. Everything you did? It's okay now."

She felt his tears dribble onto her shirt, soaking through to her skin. She held him tighter. "I know what you've done, Spike, and I forgive you. You have the chance to make amends, and you are; it's okay."

Buffy's words didn't stop the tears. They fell freely, but he didn't say a word while he cried and she endured his silent agony wishing something she did would ease his pain.

The sun was just rising over the houses when Spike finally fell asleep, Buffy's shirt covered in his tears. She kissed the top of his head, settling her cheek against it to catch a few hours sleep before her alarm went off and she needed to go to work.


	16. Chapter 16

**A.N. -** Thank so much to **bowlingforvampires **for her awesome comment that made me smile and to **LaShea84**, **TeganNichelle**, and **Gwilwillith **for their lovely comments! And thank you to everyone who favorites and follows!

* * *

Buffy woke up a minute before her alarm was set to shrill. Reaching around Spike, she turned it off, not wanting the bell to wake him. Carefully as possible, Buffy extracted herself from his embrace. In the soft glow of muted light that was coming in, she could see that Spike looked unwell. His eyes had dark circles around them and the rest of his features were a pasty pale making his normal coloring look like a tan making him appear more dead than he ever had before.

Knowing that it would reflect poorly on her as a guidance counselor, Buffy stole from the room and to the kitchen where she called the school letting them know that she had a family issue to deal with and wouldn't be into work that day. Then she got in the car and drove to the butcher's shop where she bought blood.

Next, Buffy directed the car to the Magic Box and purchased the weird herb that Spike had been stealing and putting in his blood for god only knows how long. Anya didn't question her purchase, just bagged it.

Once home, Buffy put the blood in the fridge and made pancakes for Dawn. While her dinner skills suffered immeasurably, her breakfast skills were actually pretty decent. Buffy left two steaming plates, one for Willow and one Dawn, on the breakfast bar plus a note saying she was taking the day off from work and could Willow please drive Dawn to school.

Buffy dumped one of the bags of blood into a coffee mug, warmed it up, added the herb. The mug in one hand, a plate of pancakes for Andrew in the other, she tiptoed upstairs. After dropping off the pancakes to a reverently thankful Andrew, Buffy twisted the doorknob to her bedroom and slipped inside.

Spike appeared to still be sleeping, his naked chest unmoving. In sleep, Spike didn't breathe, it was only his brain that kept that habit alive and when he was asleep and his brain shut off for the night, the breathing stopped.

Hating that she was going to disturb his sleep after his night of not doing so, Buffy put the cup on the nightstand and prepared to do just that. Bending down, she pressed a kiss to the edge of his cheek bone then slowly kissed her way up to his eyebrow where she kissed his scar. From there, Buffy worked her way with kisses across his brow line, down his left cheek bone and finally to his lips. When she pressed her lips against his, Spike sighed into the kiss.

Buffy opened her eyes to find Spike staring back at her. She drew back, licking her bottom lip, not wanting to waste the taste of him. "Morning, Baby."

It happened again. She had never called Riley or Angel Baby, they had always been Honey. Baby was just so . . .

Before she could finish her thought, Spike shifted into a sitting position and drew Buffy into his lap, kissing the side of her neck where his bite mark resided, she had taken the band-aid off when she changed into her pajamas the night before. "Morning, Precious."

Buffy leaned away so that she could see him clearly, he still looked like hell, but at least he wasn't crying anymore. "You okay?"

He rested his head against her shoulder. "I am now."

"Good, because I brought you breakfast." Buffy reached out and took the mug, handing it to Spike.

He sniffed it, then looked up at her in surprise. Buffy ran her hands over his hair, it was badly rumpled, but Buffy decided she liked it much better that way, so she ruffled it some more until it was sticking up all over. "Better drink it before it gets cold, because I'm not going to reheat it. I'm not even certain microwaving blood in a microwave that I use to make popcorn is sanitary."

Spike laughed tiredly, lifting the mug to his mouth and drinking. As soon as the blood touched his lips, his features shifted into vampire mode. Buffy watched him drink the entire mug down and some less white paleness returned to his features. Draping one arm around his shoulders, Buffy rested her head against her arm.

"Do you want to tell me what last night was all about?" she asked as Spike put the empty mug down on the night stand. Buffy's fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his neck, ruffling it then smoothing it back down in a repeated process.

Spike sighed. "I was hoping you had forgotten about that, Pet."

"Hm," Buffy squinched her eyes as if pondering this request. "Nope."

"I was feeling sorry for myself. Pity party, right?"

"Tell me," she whispered.

"Don't you have work?" he asked, trying to deflect the question.

Buffy shook her head. "Took the day off. Family emergency."

"Is the Niblet alright?" he asked with concern.

"She's fine," Buffy traced her finger down the length of his nose, "you, on the other hand, look like death."

"That might have something to do with the fact that I'm dead," Spike said dryly.

"Tell me," she urged again.

Spike clasped his hands about her waist, Buffy straightened up and he rested his cheek against her chest, letting out a long breath as he listened to her heart beat. "A bloke could really do with some smokes."

"How sad that this is a smoke free bedroom then," she teased.

"A bloody crime that." His skin was like aloe on hers, so smooth and cool. His cheek, as always, was baby soft.

"So, Billy Idol, tell me, what makes a vampire cry?" Buffy worked to make her words both light and concerned.

With a final groan, he spoke. "I can stop my thoughts when I'm awake, force myself to think about something else. But when I sleep? I can't stop them, Love. I can't make all those people I killed leave me alone. And they haunt me. I watch myself killing them, torturing them, leaving them on the brink of death but alive enough that they'll still scream when I take what I want. I watch myself enjoying it and it –" He stopped.

Buffy mulled this over, wanting to be sure that she was saying the right thing. Spike wasn't open about his past, even before he got the soul it was something he skirted over. As she was thinking, a tear splashed against her skin, breaking her heart.

She crawled between his legs, lifting his chin in her hand so he had to face her even as he cried. "I love you, Spike. I know what you've done, I know what you were, and I love you. So it's okay. Because if I can forgive you after everything we've been through, so could they. So could all those people you hurt."

His arms crushed Buffy to him, his face pressed into the crook of her neck where he cried without shame. Her shirt, hair, and skin absorbing his tears while she whispered soothing words against his ear, her lips pausing every now and then to kiss away some of the tears, her hands smoothing his hair, rubbing circles on his back.

Buffy had seen Spike distraught before. For a vampire he showed quite a range of emotion. Angel could care and Angel could love, but he also brooded. There wasn't elation, there wasn't despair, there was brooding. Buffy had gotten so used to the brooding, to men who shielded their emotions, who didn't ask tough questions, that Spike had been repellent to her in his openness.

He didn't hide his emotions, he bore them on his sleeve without repentance. He wasn't careful about what he said, ever. He said what he thought, never thinking it through, and never with any hint of remorse. Buffy built her world around brave fronts and silent thoughts. She had never been ready for him and she didn't have to be, he was a soulless demon, nothing worth bothering about. And then he wasn't and now here he was, crying in her arms and Buffy wanted to cry for him.

When the tears finally subsided, Spike trembled against her. He sniffled, looking up at Buffy with bloodshot eyes, his skin too pale once more. "I'm sure the Great Poof never broke down on you."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Angel followed me around like a rabid but protective dog after being expelled from the hell dimension. I think I can handle a little weeping." She kissed each of his trembling eyelids. "Let me get you some more blood."

He opened his eyes, they traveled to the scar on her neck. She lifted one eyebrow. "How about after you abate the hunger first, huh? I'd rather not add to your list of grievances by making me a neck victim."

Spike's laugh was hollow. "Right. Can't trust –"

Buffy kissed his cheek. "No, I can't trust an emotionally unstable vampire on the verge of hunger collapse. Not you, not Angel, or any other such vampire, so you're just going to have to stick it."

She started to get up from his lap, but Spike held her in place. Buffy looked at him expectantly. Leaning forward, he gently kissed her mouth. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Spike."

Buffy returned five short minutes later with a freshly warmed up mug of blood. Spike wasn't on the bed where she had left him, he was instead fully clothed staring at pictures on Buffy's cork board. She leaned her hip against the door frame, watching him.

"Anything of interest?"

He glanced back at her. "You still have Riley's picture up here."

Buffy nodded. "He'll always be important to me."

"And one with the werewolf too."

"Oz? Yeah, that one must be from high school."

"What's this?" He fingered the silver chain of a necklace.

Moving into the room, she held the mug out for him. "Angel gave it to me."

His expression darkened. "Angel gave you jewelry?"

"And books. We dated for a while, you give gifts in that time period." He still didn't take the cup. Buffy walked up to him, placing it firmly in his hands. "Drink."

Scowling, Spike lifted the mug to his lips, the liquid staining his lips red and turning his features rigid. "So the Great Poof get's a place on your cork board too?"

Buffy was unimpressed. "Earth to Spike, you never gave me anything otherwise you might be up there too. Probably not, you were basically an asshole, but you never know."

He considered this is glowering silence as he polished off the blood. The whiteness of his skin eased to a more normal hue. "I don't need you to babysit me, I'm not Dawn."

"I'm glad you're feeling well enough to be cantankerous." She took the mug from him and set it on her desk. "I would hate for you to think, you know, that I just like you so I was looking out for you."

He closed the distance between them until only inches separated their bodies. "That's not what you said."

"What?" Buffy's brow furrowed.

Spike's hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head up so that their eyes met. "That's not what you said earlier, that you like me."

"Oh," Buffy breathed softly.

His eyes searched hers. The side of her mouth curled up in smile. "That. Yeah. Well, you were crying and you know . . ."

"Yeah," his tone belied his hurt, "I know."

"It wasn't like I was going to find a better time to tell you. What with one apocalypse and another, I'd hate to be standing on the Hellmouth with the world crashing down around us and choose then to blurt it out." Buffy traced her fingers up his cheek bones, smiling as she spoke.

Buffy couldn't say when she realized that she loved him or when it happened. Maybe she had loved him from the moment he told her he had a soul. Maybe it was when she decided to let him bite her. Maybe it was any of the moments in between. It didn't matter now. Now it was a fact of life, just like breathing and eating; Buffy loved Spike.

She watched his eyes as they lit with understanding. "Right," he whispered before he kissed her.

Their mouths sought each other out, fusing together. Her arms latched around his neck, his hands ran up the back of her thighs to her behind, clutching there. She giggled into the kiss, twisting comfortably in his embrace.

Buffy nipped at Spike's bottom lip; he ran his tongue against hers. His hands clutched at her; she gasped, reveling in his need. Against her hip, she felt him pressing into her with hard hot desire. It melted her core and Buffy pushed their intertwined bodies back onto the bed. Spike caught her gently against him, but his kisses were hot and hard, forcing her mouth to submit to him.

Buffy fought back; they wrestled on the bed, tugging off shirts and pants until they were left in black boxer shorts, a bright blue bra, and black panties.

Spike looked up at Buffy in surprise. "We – we don't have to –"

Buffy was surprised and pleased that he hadn't necessarily meant for their kiss to lead to his. It showed him how much he had changed, how much they had changed and it also made her want him even more. But he had a choice now too and she was determined to give him that.

Crouching down over him, Buffy ran her tongue up from the waist band of his boxers to his collar bone, enjoying the contrast of his cool body against her hot tongue. She pressed her breasts against him, ran her hands over his trim hips, slipped them down into the boxer shorts to grab at his ass.

"Whatever you want, Spike."

He rolled them over so that Buffy was on her back. His mouth bit into her neck with his human teeth. He growled at the lack of blood this created. "I've only ever wanted you."

She didn't correct him on this highly inaccurate statement.

Spike's hands ran over every part of Buffy's body, feather light, setting her on fire. She panted, desperate to have him touch her for real, to grab any part of her, to not just tease. But Spike liked foreplay, a lot. Buffy was the impatient one.

He followed the pattern of his fingers with sloppy kisses, running down her arms, across her chest, sliding over her hips, pressing against the soft insides of her thighs. Buffy's head was back, her eyes clamped shut as she endured his perfect attention.

He licked her inner thigh, a burst of heat ignited within Buffy, threatening to burn her to the ground, she moaned at the sensation. Spike chuckled, the sound rumbling against her sensitive skin. He moved back up her, kissing her mouth as his hands worked the back clasp of her bra.

When Buffy was free of that particular item, his hands ran up between them, caressing, fondling her breasts. Buffy's teeth sunk into her bottom lip as his fingers chaffed at her nipple, shooting desire straight down to her molten core. When she felt she couldn't take it anymore, Spike caught her nipple between his lips, sucking on it as his right hand started to chaff her left nipple. Buffy gasped, pressing herself up into his loving caress.

Spike didn't stop, sucking until Buffy was moaning, her hands clutching him to her breast. His left hand snaked downward, brushing her legs apart. He pressed his finger against the dampness of her panties, the pressure so sweet that it wrought a cry from Buffy. She felt Spike smile. He rubbed downward and back up with his finger. She gasped, pulling him away from her breasts to kiss her full on the mouth.

Spike was a god at multi-tasking, keeping his finger busy while kissing Buffy to the point of distraction. Heat welled up within her, Buffy's thoughts utterly unfocused, her only logic to be satisfied.

When Spike finally slid his hand into her panties, letting the soft skin of his finger rub against the wet hot part of her sex, Buffy came immediately. She cried out his name, and he reassured her he was there, kissing her neck and telling her how much he loved her. Buffy's mind was a bright shower of fireworks and her body was in an ecstasy of pleasure as he kept pace with every gyration of her climax.

Eventually Buffy floated back down to herself, trembling and smiling. "God, you're so good at that."

Spike quirked an eyebrow. "Almost sinfully so?"

"Lame." But Buffy laughed anyway, her body covered in a sheen of sweat. Tracing her hands down his sides, Buffy coaxed him onto his back. Straddling him, she could feel his own arousal sticking up against her backside. Buffy reached behind her as she bent forward to kiss Spike. Clasping her hand around his hot skin, the only part of him that was ever hot, Buffy started a slow pace that matched the lingering kiss they were sharing.

Spike groaned into the kiss as Buffy ran her thumb over his glistening head. He was strong and incredibly hard in her grasp, it made her own desire spark red hot again. Buffy's hand stroked down him and back up, running over the tightness of his manhood, enjoying the sensation of having every part of him exclusively hers.

"God, Buffy," he groaned, too aroused to focus on kissing. She dedicated her lips to another task, leaving bites along his neck, just nips, but they brought feral growls from him. Buffy sped up her stroking as she bit down hard.

"Bloody hell," he growled, his words slightly slurred. Buffy looked up, surprised to find his vampire likeness with eyes clenched tight. He had always remained human when they had sex before. But whatever they were doing now, it was calling out to that deep part in him.

Buffy tilted her hips so that she was able to rub her dampness over him. Spike's fingers dug into her shoulders. She licked the skin of his neck, moaning at the feel of him begging entrance. "What do you want?" Buffy asked as she rocked against him. His entire body was tense from holding back.

"You," Spike rasped out.

Sliding back over him, Buffy settled herself on his knees, kissing up his shaft before covering the tip with her lips. He seized up, a hiss of breath escaping between his fangs. "Buffy." Spike's hands tangled up in her hair, clutching her to him. She grinned, licking down his length, then taking him in earnest. Buffy sucked on him, drawing her tongue up then swirling it down.

Spike pressed up against her, matching the movements of her mouth with the flexing of his hips. Buffy heard him panting, her own lust flamed by the obviousness of his. This was different from all their other times. Then there had always been angst, the need to hurt, to feel it so deeply it hurt. Now it was about pleasure, all about pleasure, it made Buffy's head swim with the realization that they were making love.

She sucked him harder, making her movements faster. "Buffy!" he gasped, on the edge. She pulled back, her lips smacking together. Spike grabbed her hips in his hands and threw her down gently against the bed. He was on top of her in an instant, one hand ripping her underwear clear off her, the other running over her sex then slipping inside her. Buffy cooed at the touch, wanting much more of him.

With lust filled eyes, features smooth once more, Spike lined his hips with hers. Running his hands up her body and over her breasts, he leaned full on her, his tip brushing against her but not penetrating. "I love you, Buffy."

She swallowed hard. Their hands intertwined. "I love you, William."

In one long thrust, Spike was inside her. Buffy's breath caught, their eyes holding each other's gaze. He exhaled slowly, then pulled almost all the way out. With deliberate slowness, he pushed back in, then slid back.

Buffy licked her bottom lip, sucking it in, trying to hold back her moans. He smiled at the gesture. "God, you're beautiful."

Her body responded to his words, her hips lifting to meet his. Spike worked them slowly, it was hard to endure, so sweet that Buffy's body tingled, but not enough to let her release. "Spike," she moaned.

He sped up just enough to give her the perfect amount of friction. Letting go of her left hand, he reached between them, rubbing perfect circles over her sex. Buffy's eyes pinched shut as her breathing grew rapid. "Yes, Spike, yes."

His finger was delicious on her skin, rolling circles over her slick flesh. She twisted her hips, he gasped, his fingers squeezing hers. "You feel so good, Buffy. So tight. So hot."

She lifted her hips again, meeting his thrust hard. The friction pushed him to moving faster, his finger matching the pace. "Oh, Spike," Buffy sighed, teeth biting into her lip. Moving her head up, she sunk her worrying teeth into the soft flesh at his shoulder.

Spike let out a long growl, thrusting faster still. Buffy dropped back against the bed, Spike followed her down. His mouth settling over her scar. "I love you, Buffy." His words were slurred.

"Bite me, Spike," Buffy pleaded, desperate for the sweet pain it brought and knowing he needed the closeness biting her brought them as much as she did.

His hips pistoned into her, bringing her incredibly close to the edge, her vision blurring with the red hot heat seeping through her very bones. "What you do to me . . ." Spike growled. With one sharp movement, he sunk his hangs deep into Buffy's sweet skin.

She cried out at the unbelievable sensation, climaxing in a wave of tingling desire so strong that she shook with it. Spike rode her through the orgasm, her body flexing around his as she called out his name like a litany. Before Buffy could settle back into herself, he sucked at her skin, his hips bucking wildly, his control faltering, then slipping away completely as he came as well, calling out her name.

Spike and Buffy lay in a sweaty heap, their bodies mixing their separate fluids. "I have never," he said, brushing back the wet tangle of her bangs, "been with anyone who makes me feel the way you do."

A warm glow lit Buffy's smile. "You're pretty amazing yourself." She propped her chin up on his chest.

"That's not what I mean," Spike said, blue eyes watching Buffy. "You make me feel alive when I've been dead for 130 years. You make me feel good when I've been nothing but evil. You make me feel desire so brutal I swear sometimes it might burn me to death. You make me believe I can be a better man."

"Because you can be."

"Only with you. Only for you."

And that's when Buffy knew. That was the power she held over Spike, that's what being a willing slave meant. He would do anything for her, be anything for her. The knowledge terrified her and electrified her at the same time. Was that true love? Unwavering devotion? It certainly felt like it.

"You could turn a girl's head with talk like that," she said quietly. "You're quite the charmer, William."

He ran his fingers through her hair. "Yeah, well, don't tell the Scoobies. Wouldn't want them thinking the Big Bad's gone soft."

"Your secret's safe with me, Big Bad."


	17. Chapter 17

**A.N.** Thanks for the comments and favs/follows! Glad to know you liked the last chapter. =]

* * *

"And that's all we know about this thing?" Spike hooked one eyebrow upward.

Buffy squirmed uncomfortably on the couch. "Uh, yeah, pretty much."

"Right then." He picked up one of Willow's books at random. "This should be easy," sarcasm dripped off his words as Spike kicked up his Doc Martens on the coffee table. Buffy cringed but didn't shove them off. After spending the better part of the morning in bed making love followed by alarming amounts of cuddling, they had settled downstairs to do research.

Eyeing the textbooks, Buffy chose the one with a dark leather jacket and creative insignia. If the contents weren't interesting, at least the packaging was. She placed a couch pillow against Spike's side. He looked down curiously. She leaned against the pillow, her legs stretching over the length of the couch. Once she was settled in, Spike encircled one arm over her shoulder.

With a sigh, Buffy opened the book, her nose wrinkling at the smell of worn paper and ancient ink. The book was handwritten, the writing cramp, slanted, and small. The perfect combo for inducing a major headache. Silently, they both got to work.

Buffy flipped through page after creaky page. The words blurred together after a while, nothing stood out as useful or even mildly related to what she had seen in the basement. Behind her, Spike was doing the same with equally un-motivating results. Buffy's eyelids began to droop, last night's lack of sleep finally catching up with her.

The situation was one Buffy had never imagined in six years of knowing Spike. Never in her wildest thoughts had she ever pictured herself being content by his side, relaxing into him, doing something as normal as researching a new evil. They were so couply. It was almost frightening really, except she was too busy being mesmerized with this feeling of completion that she forgot to be afraid.

Her eyes closed for just a second, but when she opened them again, she was no longer in her living room. She was seated behind a desk in the old Sunnydale High school, Jenny Calendar stood at the front of the classroom.

"Jenny?" The question echoed between them. Buffy looked around, she was the only one in the classroom.

"Hi, Buffy." Jenny crossed her arms, smiling. "Long time no see."

Unease stole over Buffy. "Yes."

"How's Angelus?"

She was standing in front of Jenny now, the desk between them. "He's not anymore. He got his soul back."

"Rupert let him live after what he did to me?" Jenny pointed to the chalkboard. A picture of her dead body was taped to it.

"He didn't –"

"We both know what he did, Buffy. But I'm not here to discuss my death."

Buffy looked around them. Jenny and Buffy were in the basement of the school, in front of them was the door to the furnace room. Jenny reached out for the door handle.

"Don't!" Buffy grabbed her hand.

Jenny looked at her, smiling. "So you know?"

"Know?"

Her smile faded. "It's coming. Not just for you. For everyone. It will rise. It will devour. You can't stop it."

"What is it?" Buffy asked desperately.

"He knows. Angelus knows."

"He knows what?" Mist began to rise between them, filling the room, swirling about their ankles, quickly obscuring their legs as it climbed higher.

"Books can't help you, Buffy. Angelus knows."

"Wait!" The mist was up to their chests, Buffy tried to reach through it, but Jenny was farther away from her now, walking into the furnace room. "Please! I don't understand."

"I'm sorry, Buffy. Death is quick. Eternity in hellfire lasts a lot longer. From beneath you, it will devour." And she was lost in the mist.

"Jenny!" Buffy cried, running after her, but she couldn't see anything through the mist. It swirled before her, a thick grey fog that distorted any sense of being.

"Buffy. Buffy!"

"Jenny!"

"Buffy!"

With a jerk, she woke up. Spike was shaking her shoulder, staring down at her with worried pale blue eyes. "You alright, Precious? Quite a dream you were having."

"Spike?" Buffy asked, dazed. She struggled into a sitting position, having slumped down in his lap during sleep. Blinking rapidly to clear the fog still entrapping her mind, she swung her feet around, placing them onto the floor. Sweat coated her hairline, Buffy wiped it away, noticing as she did so that her fingers were trembling. "I – I don't know."

"Buffy, look at me." When she didn't move, Spike gently cupped her chin in his hand, directing her face to his. "It was just a dream, Love, you're okay now."

"But it wasn't," Buffy disagreed. "It wasn't just a dream. It was a Slayer dream, a vision."

"Of what?"

"I don't know . . ."

His hand released her chin, coming to rub soothing circles on her back instead. "What happened in this dream that's got you all upset?"

"I saw Jenny Calendar, or, I think she came to see me."

"Who?" Spike asked blankly.

"She was a teacher at Sunnydale, Angelus killed her after he lost his soul," she spoke devoid of any emotion but confusion.

"Oh, right. I remember her. Cute woman, short dark hair? Was snogging Giles, yeah?" Buffy nodded. "What'd she say then?"

"She told me – she told me that she knows about the ghost thing. She said we wouldn't find it in any book. She said that Angelus knows what it is." Buffy ran her hands through her hair, frustrated.

"Didn't feel like telling you herself?"

"I asked but . . ."

"Well, that was right helpful of her. Since you've already talked to Angel and all. Might have checked in on that before coming up with the secret message from beyond." Spike closed his book with a snap. "Premonitions, nothing but trouble. Dru got them all the time, usually about fifteen percent on target and eighty-five percent magical bullocks."

When his words failed to comfort her, he added. "Don't worry, Buffy. We'll figure this out. Books or no books. Slayer dreams or not."

"I just hope we figure it out before it devours us."

* * *

"Devours," Dawn bite off a large chunk of cold pizza, eating it ravenously. "Such a creepy word."

"Yeah." Buffy looked at her younger sister pointedly.

"What? I'm hungry. Cafeteria food is the worst."

"Worse than my cooking?" Buffy asked skeptically.

"At least you try. I know those cafeteria cooks are only interested in poisoning us." She took another bite, chasing it down with her Coke.

"Ha, ha," Buffy said, referring to the cafeteria worker she had once stopped from doing just that.

"So are you going to call Angel again? I mean, since, Jenny said you should ask him?"

Buffy shrugged, her eyes drifting over to Spike who was leaning against the archway, listening to the siblings' conversation. "I don't know, I mean, I already sort of talked to him about it."

Dawn looked unimpressed. "That was before the spirit of our friend told you that he knows what this is. I kind of think that is call back worthy."

Buffy shifted her hip against the counter top, her fingers slowly turning her glass of water in a circle. "He's probably busy with his own stuff, Dawn. He doesn't need to be bothered with Hellmouthy stuff on top of that."

"Oh for goodness sake!" Dawn dropped the pizza, whirling around to face Spike. "Tell her you don't care if she calls Angel."

Spike's face flashed with bewilderment. "What you talking about, Niblet?"

Buffy's cheeks had taken on the hue of a tomato, but she found herself too horrified to answer before Dawn could humiliate her further. "Buffy won't call Angel because she thinks it'll upset you. So just christen the deal so we can get on with finding this thing before it gets with the devouring."

As bravely as she could, Buffy met Spike's penetrating stare. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. "Buffy should know I don't care if she calls the Great Poof.

"Wonderful!" Dawn snagged the phone from the wall, thrusting it into Buffy's hand. "Call the Poof."

Deciding she'd had quite enough public discussion of her for the day, Buffy took the call upstairs. Spike stayed down in the kitchen with Dawn. As Buffy headed up the stairs, she heard Spike ask Dawn about the infamous Davie Smith.

Standing against her window, letting the yellow sunshine bathe her in its heat, Buffy dialed Angel's number. "Buffy?" he answered.

"Hey," she said in a small voice, slightly uncomfortable with how their last phone call ended.

"Everything alright?"

And that's really what their relationship had become. Barely even friends, more like business partners, calling whenever there was danger lurking in the other's neck of the woods. "No, actually, it's not."

"What did Spike do?" he practically growled.

Buffy held the phone away from her in surprise. Frowning, she put the receiver back to her ear. "Uhm, nothing? This isn't about Spike."

"What's he doing at your house, Buffy?"

Bland annoyance replaced her lingering discomfort. "That's literally none of your business, but since I'd rather you hear it from me than from second sources, we're –"

"Don't say it," he cut her off harshly.

"- together."

"How can you date a monster like Spike?" he asked with disgust and a hint of hurt.

Buffy's lips curled down in a scowl. Hadn't she already explained this to everyone? "He has a soul now, Angel. It's not the same. He's not the same. I love him." It felt utterly surreal to be revealing that she loved Spike to Angel before Willow or Dawn, but Angel had always had that uncanny affect on her.

"I can't do this right now, Buffy."

"Hello? You're the one who asked. And if you could pull yourself away from vampiric jealousy for a moment, you'd remember that I called you to talk about something completely unrelated to Spike. You're the one who dragged him into the conversation." Buffy's fingers twisted in the phone cord, her eyes cast down on the carpet.

"What do you need, Buffy?"

"Jenny Calendar? Remember killing her?" she asked with the specific intent of hurting him the same amount that his dismissal of her feelings for Spike hurt her. "She came to me in a slayer vision. She said that Angelus knows who this new, or I guess not so new, evil is."

"Well, I don't. I already told you that."

Buffy let out a frustrated sigh, the phone cord slipping between her fingers. "Can you please try, Angel? I need your help. You can be disappointed in me, but can you at least help me too?"

Silence greeted her on the other line. Just as she was giving up hope, he spoke. "I could never be disappointed in you, Buffy."

Her heart twinged. "Does that mean you'll help me?"

"Of course. But I don't know what you think I can do."

"Just wrack your memory for anytime a ghost pretending to be someone else came to you and was creepy and maybe talked about devouring things . . ." She knew how useless it sounded.

"I'll get back to you if I think of anything."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. And Buffy, be careful with Spike. Having your soul doesn't change the demon inside." With this ominous warning, he hung up.

Buffy put the phone back in its cradle and flopped down on her bed. Clutching her pillow to her chest, she addressed the empty room. "Glad to know you're all so supportive."

There was a light knock at her door. Turning her head to it, she called out, "Come in."

"Buffy?" It was Spike.

"Hold on," she said, moving off the bed to pull the blinds. "Okay."

He opened the door and stepped halfway in. "So, how's the Poof?"

Buffy shrugged, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Poofy."

Spike laughed. "Never thought I'd hear you insult Angel."

"Yeah, well, you weren't on the receiving end of his lecture against all males I deem fit to date." Buffy nudged her foot against the carpet.

"That right?" Spike crossed his arms. "And I suppose he was such a treat, losing his soul the moment you do it, killing a bunch of your mates, then returning all repentant like. Yeah, definitely the top of the pack I'd say."

"God!" Buffy fell back against her bed, covering her face with the pillow.

"What?" he asked with a definite note of sulkiness.

"You two! I swear. You are worse than school boys."

Spike didn't deny this. "What did his Ponciness have to say?"

"Nothing much," she mumbled into the pillow. "Doesn't know what Jenny was talking about, will try to remember."

Spike yanked the pillow from her face. "Were you really not going to call him?"

Buffy looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Maybe."

"Because of me?"

"It's a theory."

He grinned. "Don't know why you'd think I'd care if you called him. I'm the one with you now, not the Poof."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Because you've never been known to react with totally unaccountable jealousy."

"Yeah, well," Spike lay down next to her, their faces perfectly aligned. "You'd get jealous too, if you had any idea what it was like to be with someone as amazing as you."

She flushed pleasantly at his words. "You can't charm your way out of –"

He kissed her, a soft pressure that grew harder. Buffy responded in kind, sliding her tongue against his bottom lip until he parted and their tongues ran against each other, fireworks of red and blue, hot and cold. Spike's hand worked its way onto her hip, then up her side, cupping her breast through her bra.

Downstairs the front door slammed. "Dawn!" Buffy wrenched away from Spike, tumbling off the bed in her hurry to stop her sister. She was halfway down the stairs before she noticed her shirt was still rucked up and Dawn was sitting on the couch talking to Willow.

"Oh! Hey, Will," Buffy said, trying to cover.

Dawn looked utterly unimpressed. "Still here, Warden."

Willow craned her neck to see her best friend. "Dawn said you called Angel? She told me about your dream, really creepy."

Buffy nodded, jogging down the rest of the stairs and joining her sister on the couch. "Yep."

"And?"

"Abysmal results. Angel doesn't know what Jenny was talking about."

"Yeah, well, she didn't exactly say call Angel did she?" Spike stood at the bottom of the stairs, eyeing the three women uncertainly. Dawn scooted over, clearly welcoming him in the space between herself and her sister. With a moment's hesitation, Spike walked over and took the proffered seat.

Spike and Buffy's thighs pressed together, hers leaking warmth into his unnaturally cool skin. Willow contemplated their position and when Buffy was about to create some distance between herself and her boyfriend for the sake of her best friend, Willow gave a small smile. Relief washed over Buffy, easing more tension than she thought she was carrying between her shoulders.

Spike's hand slid over Buffy's knee. Clearly he had been waiting for Willow's reaction as well; Buffy was honestly surprised he had enough awareness of others to care. Then again, this wasn't the same Spike she had known for six years. This was William, the man behind Spike, and she was finding herself drawn closer to him for all the little changes. They didn't change the snarkiness or the thinly veiled violence, but they softened it.

"Right. Like I was saying. This Calendar woman, she didn't say to ask Angel, she said to ask Angelus," Spike continued.

"But how does that help us?" Dawn asked. "Angelus isn't around for us to ask, and I certainly wouldn't want to bring him back for an impromptu game of pop-trivia."

"I agree with you, Dawn, but Spike has a really good point." The three on the couch looked at Willow in surprise. This genuinely had to be the first time ever she had praised Spike.

"Bloody right I do!" he said. "And that would be . . .?"

"Angelus. Jenny said Angelus knows. If it was Jenny who came to you, then it should be the Angelus that we all knew and hated. Something during his time here, in Sunnydale, somewhere in that is when he met this evil, in theory at least. Even if Angel doesn't remember it, we should be able to, you too Spike. You were with Angelus more than any of us, even if his torment centered on Buffy." Willow was really on a roll now, her eyes lighting up with the thrill of the logical pursuit. She was always at her best when she was solving problems the rest of the Scoobies couldn't decipher.

"So the plan is?" Buffy asked, knowing Willow had one.

"Tonight, we'll get the gang together –"

"I'll order more pizza!" Dawn nominated.

" – and we'll try to recreate everything that happened with Angelus. Between the five of us and Anya, we should be able to come up with something," Willow finished.

"Great," Buffy said. "One trip down horrible memory lane and hopefully we'll have something useful."

Spike squeezed her knee in a reassuring manner. "It'll work out, Love. Red's the brainy sort so this plan actually has a shot of working."


	18. Chapter 18

Patrol followed in the same pattern as the night before. The first to get the kill got to ask the question. Spike won the first round with a lot more shoving Buffy out of the way in the name of 'safety' than was strictly necessary.

"What's with you and tall sods of the wanker variety?" he had asked.

Buffy gawked. "Excuse me?"

"You're a bitty bit of thing. But there you are with bloody Sasquatch time and again."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mr. Jealousy, whatever you say."

"I'm not pussy footing around, Slayer," he had dogged her, keeping pace as she scoped out the alleys of Sunnydale.

"Ew! Let's leave the phrase out of the rest our relationship. If what you're trying to ask is if I have a thing for tall guys then I guess the answer would be yes." He growled. "Especially when you consider that at five four most guys tower over me, including you. So you can just swallow down the pointless jealously or get on with the wearing lifts business."

Spike snorted. "I wouldn't bloody wear lifts."

"Mhm," Buffy eyed him. "That was a dumb waste of a question."

"You asked about my hair. _That _was a dumb question."

"Whatever." She turned down the next alley way, pleased when she heard dumpster ruckus sounds. Beating a trail forward, she outdistanced Spike, quickly separating the possible neck victim from the vampire.

This time, Buffy exerted energy shoving Spike out of the way to ensure her own slay. Once the mission was accomplished, she asked, "What was your favorite decade?"

Spike scoffed. "Do you know nothing at all about me, Slayer?"

She narrowed her green gaze dangerously. "More answering, less talking back from the loser."

"The 70s, Pet. The Ramones, The Sex Pistols, The Clash. Killed my second slayer, got the duster. _The Exorcist_ and _Taxi Driver_ playing at the cinema. Great decade that was. Clothes were better then too." His expression was quintessential nostalgia. Buffy had to smile, he looked so cute and dreamy. "Course, you wouldn't have even been a speck in your mum's mind yet, so I'm pretty partial to the 1980s too."

Buffy blushed. "That's like way sappy."

He curled his tongue behind his teeth, giving her his best sex face. "But you like it, don't you, Precious?"

"Shut up. We have more demons to slay."

They didn't come across anymore vampires until they reached the cemetery where a newly sired vamp was crawling forth from his grave. To give each other equal footing, they agreed to let the vamp emerge first and get it's bearings before attacking.

When it came down to final blows, Spike's stake connected with the vampire's dead heart. "Favorite food?"

"Whoa, going easy on me now?" Buffy teased, linking their hands together as they turned to head back to the house. "My mom used to make the most amazing spaghetti, just ask Dawn. That's my favorite. I haven't had it since – since she passed and seeing as I'm a terrible cook, I doubt I'll have it again anytime soon."

"Personally, I liked Joyce's hot chocolate best of all, little marshmellows and all."

She laughed, whacking him lightly on the chest. "A vampire who loves hot chocolate, how lame are you?"

He leered down at her. "I'm bad, Slayer, very bad."

* * *

At eight o'clock, the Scoobies were all gathered around the kitchen table with the exception of Andrew who was still housed in the spare bedroom. The girls had set him up with a television, Playstation, and comic books. It kept him quiet and occupied. All the better for them.

After yesterday's blow out, Xander seemed to have calmed down again. He was even looking at Buffy, which was better than having him stare at the space just over her left shoulder. When he caught her watching him, he said, "What? You think I'd miss a once in a life time opportunity to participate in an Angel bashing?"

Buffy smiled. "Yeah, maybe not."

Spike's attention perked up. "You not a fan of the Great Poof?"

"I never liked Dead Boy, even when he was helping us and not trying to eat us." Xander grabbed a slice of meat lover's pizza.

"I might have misjudged you, Whelp." Xander bit into the pizza, landing flecks of pizza sauce all over his grey shirt. "Then again, probably not."

But somehow, the mutual dislike of Angel seemed to abate their natural dislike of each other. Their barbs and sarcastic comments weren't openly hostile. They were borderline friendly, actually. For the rest of the evening as the Scoobies compiled a detailed memory / plot line of Angelus' time in Sunnydale, they managed to only get in one argument.

Anya acted as secretary, writing everything down, fact checking when pieces seemed to be missing or out of order, and offering her own thousand year old demon insight into the events. All in all, it was a really productive evening, it left them all with as sense of accomplishment.

"Okay," Willow said at nine thirty. "We'll sleep on it over night, see if anything else comes to us, and comb over the results tomorrow. I'm telling you, guys, whatever the evil is, it's in Anya's notes somewhere."

Willow and Buffy cleaned up the dishes; Dawn took the left over pizza to Andrew; and Spike went to the basement to eat dinner. As Buffy handed Willow another dish to dry, Willow asked, "You really are happy, aren't you?"

"Hm?" Buffy dunked the glass she was holding into the soapy water.

"With Spike, I mean. At first, well, I wasn't really sure what was going on. But the other night when you told us all? You were serious, you want to be with Spike. Then seeing you together this afternoon, the way he acts around you? He's different too. He's careful and I've never seen Spike careful. So, what I'm trying to say is, I'm happy for you too."

Buffy know it was stupid, but she was blinking back tears. It had been so incredibly long since she felt her friends approved of her or what she did and as much as she didn't want to admit it, Buffy had sincerely missed their approval. Buffy dropped the cup back into the water, sending up a flurry of soap bubbles. She grabbed Willow in a tight embrace. Willow hugged her back, laughing a little.

"I love you, Will."

"Love you more, Buffy."

* * *

As Willow went upstairs, Buffy walked downstairs. Spike was sitting on his cot, idly drinking a packet of blood. He looked up at her approach, his brow line rigid. She sucked in her bottom lip, trying to hide her smile, but he saw it anyway, smiling back at her with blood on his lips and yellow eyes.

Buffy sat down on his lap. Taking the blood packet from him and resting it on the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands came to rest at the small of her back. With a cautious hand, she lifted her fingertips to trace over his rigid bones. Spike's eyes fluttered close at the touch; Buffy never knew a demon could look so blissfully peaceful.

She took a deep breath, then kissed him, the blood smearing against her mouth, the taste of it still heavy on his tongue. But this was Spike. And he was hers. And Buffy wanted all of him. The light, the dark; the good, the bad; the man, the vampire. She didn't need words to tell him that, he knew by her actions.

Their bodies tangled together, never able to get close enough unless they were inside each other. Spike sucked at Buffy's bottom lip, she panted against his mouth. Their tongues ran against each other. Buffy leaned into him, pressing him back against the wall, her breasts firm against his chest, her legs clamped over his. Cool fingers traced up her skin, sending tingles down her spine.

Buffy kissed his top lip, then his bottom. Smiling at him, she pulled his shirt clean over his head, tossing it somewhere behind them. Spike grinned back, his human features resurfacing. "You're incredible," he said, resting his smooth forehead against hers.

"And you're dangerously sexy." Buffy snatched his lips back to her, bruising them with the force and the need of her kisses, because she knew he could take it and she loved being with someone whose strength matched her own. There was a freedom in that like no other. Buffy could be entirely herself with Spike, no holding back, no reservations.

Spike grabbed the backs of her thighs, lifting them up in one powerful movement. "You're bed or mine, Precious?"

"Mine," Buffy gasped, feeling bereft without his lips on hers.

Somehow he carried them up the two flights of stairs, all the while her fingers ran against his hair, curling it up. Buffy's mouth refused to be moved from his; she drank in the taste of him, her tongue running over his teeth, over the smooth skin of the inside of his cheeks.

Spike was panting by the time they crash landed on Buffy's bed. He tugged her shirt roughly off, then with stark contrast, he gently ran his hands over her revealed skin. Goosebumps ran up her arms at his touch, she sighed against him; her own hands covering the expanse of his stomach, tracing every line of the hard muscle of his abdomen.

"God, you're beautiful," she told him.

Spike growled, dragging Buffy closer to him. "Nothing compared to you, Love."

Dipping her fingers into the front of his jeans, Buffy worked the button then the zipper. Spike kicked them off, as he did the same to her jeans. "I love you, Spike." She kissed the side of his mouth.

He lifted his head enough to see her clearly. "I love you, Buffy." Then he dove back down, ridding her of her remaining clothing, kissing every inch of her exposed skin.

Buffy responded with sighs and moans as Spike put pleasure into every action. Her body was on fire for him, craving the cool release only he could give her. Her fingers ran over him, down past his hips, to where he waited for her. Strong and hard, she caressed him in soft slow motions. This edged his attentions onward, he kissed her breast, sucking at her nipple until it was pebble hard, until Buffy was straining against him.

As much as Spike enjoyed the foreplay, Buffy couldn't be bothered with it tonight. She needed him and she needed him now. Flipping him over, Buffy pressed each of his hands to the metal railing of her headboard. "Don't let go," she instructed.

Spike grinned wickedly. "You're willing slave, Pet."

Buffy slid her body down to his, rocking against him just once before taking him fully inside. Their bodies fused together, fitting perfectly. Spike filled her and made her feel whole. Buffy stretched up then slid back down, the friction everything she wanted it to be. Spike watched their bodies come together, his eyes glazed and heavy lidded.

Bracing her hands on his chest, Buffy worked them together, her hips rotating up and down, his hips coming to meet every motion. It was never like this with anyone else, a seamless dance, no awkward moments, always envisioning the next movement before it came.

Buffy's hair spilled down her back, her mouth hung open. "Oh, Spike," she sighed in ecstasy, his shaft rubbing against her in a way that lit her inner passions.

He groaned, his hands twitching on the bars, desperate to touch her. "Buffy, you feel so good."

She curled over him, kissing his slightly swollen lips. As she lost focus in the kiss, he snaked his hand down between them, pressing it just so against her and Buffy cried out for him. Spike responded by rubbing her in fast circles. Her hips worked harder, riding him full force.

He tensed beneath her, at the edge but unwilling to go over. "Not without you, Love," he growled with visible effort, each word spoke between puffed breath.

Buffy closed her eyes, giving herself fully over to the feeling of his finger against her and his erection inside her. Still, Buffy couldn't release. Sensing her problem, Spike sat up and sunk his fangs into her neck in one swift motion. The combined pleasure sent Buffy over the edge, spiraling into the fireworks of red and blue.

"Spike . . . oh . . . Spike."

"Yeah, Buffy," he grunted, clasping her tight against him, lowering his mouth to suck the blood from her dripping neck. And when he drank, Buffy's own pleasure was eclipsed by his as he came full force, his body bucking under hers, his hands holding her to him so strongly that had she been merely human she would have bruised.

Spent, they fell back against the tangled sheets.

* * *

Returning to work the next day was anything but exciting, especially since Buffy felt on edge about the basement. She found her gaze flickering continually to window of her office that looked out into the hallway. Just beyond the scope of her vision was the dreaded basement door.

Tonight the Scoobies were set to have another Angelus meeting, go over what they had written down and try to figure out what exactly the ghost was. Trapped in the school, knowing she was directly above the Hellmouth kept Buffy from feeling even slightly relaxed.

Staring unseeingly out of her office window, Buffy thought of Spike. He was at the house either sleeping or looking in on Andrew. Her hand traveled over her collar bone to his scar. Even after being bitten multiple times, the scar remained the same, a white kiss, the skin colder and smoother than the rest. It healed quickly now, as if her body had gotten used to the almost nightly biting process.

Drinking Buffy's blood, Spike required less pigs blood and while feeding from humans should have made him more dangerous to the humans around him nothing had changed. That made Buffy strangely proud, Spike wasn't dangerous because he didn't want to be dangerous, because he could be a better man and he was.

When the bell rang at the end of the day, Buffy hurried out of the office. She made a left down the hall to avoid Dawn's locker and allow her sister time to flirt shamelessly with Davie Smith. Apparently, Buffy's prison background and random display of sisterly embarrassment and grounding Dawn had not daunted his interest in her. Buffy considered this a very positive thing, because if Davie was really going to be a part of Dawn's life, there were going to be plenty of weirder things to put him off.

As Buffy was waiting for Dawn, Principal Wood walked up beside her. "Ms. Summers."

"Principal Wood," she smiled. "How are you?"

"Good. It's been a day without food fights. I count that as a success."

"As you should," Buffy laughed. Around them, students slowed their run to a fast walk down the hallway, not wanting to catch the principal's attention.

"How's the recycling?"

Buffy's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Super Recycler Summers?"

"Oh, oh!" she said. "It goes well. I recycle, I – I dig through others garbage for recycling goods . . ." she trailed off.

"Well," he looked down at her then quickly away, "that's good."

"Yes, the neighbors think I'm crazy, but the planet is better off."

"So, I was thinking you could give an assembly on recycling. It would be good for the students and look good for the school if we were to advocate going green."

Buffy's lips twitched in dismay. "Yes! Yes, it would. And I'd love to . . . "

"How does next week Friday sound then?"

"Perfect!" Buffy was reminded vividly of the talent show Xander, Willow, and she had been forced to perform in during Snyder's days. Being the Slayer was always getting her into reckless problems.

He clapped her on the shoulder. "Good work, Ms. Summers. I'm looking forward to your presentation."

"Thanks, Principal Wood."

Dawn was skipping down the hallway to them, the glow in her cheeks a clear clue that Davie Smith had been making with the smoochies. "Hi, Principal Wood."

"Dawn," he said as he walked away.

"What are you and the principal chatting about?" Dawn asked, hooking her thumbs through her backpack.

Buffy groaned. "I'm supposed to give a presentation on recycling next week."

"Why?" she asked, bewildered.

"Because I'm Super Recycler Summers," Buffy said dejectedly.

When they got home, Willow was in the kitchen baking cookies. "Oh my gosh," Dawn enthused, "those smell amazing, Willow."

"Good, because they are going to be used as motivation." Willow set a tray of freshly baked cookies on the island, both of her hands encased in kitten shaped oven mitts.

Dawn and Buffy took seats on the kitchen stools. "Motivation?" Dawn asked, reaching for a cookie. Willow gently kitten mitten slapped her hand away.

"Yes. We want to know about Davie Smith."

"Who is we?" Dawn asked, her brow crinkling.

"We is me, and Willow, and Spike, and Andrew," Buffy explained. As if called by their names, the two male occupants of the house appeared in the archway of the kitchen.

"Cookies!" Andrew shouted joyously.

Spike grabbed him by the shoulder before he could make a mad dash for the pile of chocolate chips enmeshed in cookie dough. "Cool it, Nancy Boy."

Andrew's shoulders slumped. "Fine. But I was promised cookies. Spike said –"

"Shut it." Spike squeezed Andrew's shoulder until he made a face.

Buffy lifted one eyebrow at her undead boyfriend. "Spike said what?"

"Nothing, Love." He released Andrew and came to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around Buffy's middle, his chin propped up on her shoulder, but he was looking at Dawn. "So Niblet, about this Davie Smith, when do we meet him?"

Her eyes grew impossibly large. "You can't be serious. I'm not bringing Davie here to meet you guys."

"Willow," Buffy directed. Willow handed a cookie to Andrew, then one to Buffy, and one to Spike, keeping one for herself as well.

Dawn eyed the cookies longingly. "We've only been on one date."

The adults took a bite of their cookies.

"He's – he's shy!"

Their mutual moans let it be known how delicious the cookies were.

"I'm seventeen! That's like almost an adult. And - and you already read though his student file!"

Willow set out four glasses and poured milk.

"This! This is blackmail!"

They each took a drink.

Dawn threw her hands up. "Fine! If Buffy can cook a real meal, I'll invite Davie over for dinner on Thursday."

Willow looked to her best friend for confirmation. Buffy nodded. Willow handed Dawn a cookie. "God," Dawn sighed, biting into the cookie, "you guys can be so evil."

"Years of practice," Spike said, polishing off his cookie.

Beyond the obligatory drink, he hadn't touched his milk. Dawn reached for it, but feeling this was a bit too weird even for her, Buffy offered her sister her glass instead which was still half full and took Spike's for herself. Somehow, Buffy just didn't want her sister's lips on the rim of the cup where Spike's had been.

Still, having Spike there as part of a completely normal domestic scene was undeniably amazing. They were all functioning as a unit again, and Spike was a part of that unit. Buffy really couldn't have been happier, unless, of course, Giles had been with them.

"Can I come to the Angel debate group tonight?" Andrew asked, reaching for a second cookie.

Buffy frowned at him. "Why would you want to? You don't even know Angel."

"Human contact? Seriously, my social life has taken a severe plunge since moving in with you guys." He munched contemplatively on his cookie.

"Moving in?" Buffy asked in disbelief.

"That's how I choose to think of my current living arrangement. The positive thinking book I stole from Willow's room said it all depends on how you want to view your life as to whether or not you're happy."

"That's where my book went?" Willow asked.

"Bugger this, we're never letting him out again. The boy talks too much." Spike grabbed two more cookies, handing one to his girlfriend. She felt very ugh about the situation, because every time Spike was sweet, Buffy wanted to drag him into a dark corner with her and do not so sweet things to him.

"It's an idea, though," Buffy admitted. "Circumstances might look familiar to Andrew, since he's bumped into this evil too."

"Hey!" Dawn said, snagging herself another cookie. "If Andrew gets to do research, I definitely do!"

"Andrew's not grounded," Buffy said.

"Uhm, hello? He's not grounded, he's kidnapped!" She poured herself more milk.

"I prefer to think of it as voluntary confinement," Andrew said sagely.

"A gag then, yeah? You Scoobies were always trying to gag me, and I'm not nearly as bloody annoying as this one," Spike argued.

"Willow?" Buffy looked to her best friend for help.

She smiled meekly. "Yes to Andrew, and Dawn, you can research after you've done your homework and unloaded the dishwasher."

"Will, you're amazing. You are going to be a great strict mom," Buffy said, getting off the stool.

"Thanks, I think," she said.

"Compliment, I promise. Plus, I need your help. I have to give a speech on recycling."

Spike laughed. "What's that, Precious?"

"Recycling, it's this thing we invented at least a century after you died where –"

"I know what recycling is," he said flatly. "I meant, why are you giving a speech about it?"

Buffy frowned sourly. Willow read her expression accurately. "Oh no, not Super Recycler Summers?"

"Super, what?" Spike asked, laughing hard now. Andrew joined in, laughing for the sake of laughing with Spike.

"This is all your fault, actually." Buffy jabbed her finger into Spike's chest.

"Mine?" He grabbed her finger and stretched their hands against each other.

"If you hadn't been playing Renfield in the school basement, Principal Wood would never have seen me creeping out of the basement and I would never have said that ridiculous thing about looking for recyclables."

Curling Buffy's fingers over his, he gave her the absolute incarnate look of innocence. "I'm sorry for inconveniencing you into becoming Super Recycler Summers." He pressed a chaste kiss to her hand.

Snatching her hand back, Buffy slapped him on the chest. "You are seriously so full of it, William the Bloody. That soul of yours has no impact on lying?"

He titled his head to the side, thinking. "Nah, can't say that it has."

And with complete unexpectedness, Dawn threw her arms around both Spike and Buffy. Uncertainly, Buffy gave her sister a one armed hug and Spike did the same. "This is so great," she said.

"What is, Dawny?"

"You two! All bickery and flirty. I'm so happy!" She squeezed them harder.

Buffy blushed, catching Spike's eye, he gave her a shameless smile. "Yeah, well, not sure I'm ready for the group hug and all," he said, disentangling himself from the sisters.

Still hugging Buffy, Dawn put her hand on her hip. "Please, you are so enjoying the cuddling. Deep down you're just a big cuddly vampire."

Spike's expression did not hold with the cuddling. "I don't know, Dawn," Willow said from behind the trio. "He once threatened to stab me in the face with a broken bottle. Not so much with the cuddles that day."

"Right," Spike smoothed his hand over his hair. "Sorry about that, Red, too much to drink, depression, and general evilness; the usual."

She gave a little smile. "Apology accepted. But then again, you tried to kill me in –"

"Bloody hell! Assume I'm remorseful for any attacks or selling out or other evil things I did as long as they don't include Harris who I will never be sorry for having tormented." He snatched one last cookie and headed downstairs.

Willow, Dawn, and Buffy shared a mildly surprised look before breaking into giggles.

"Uhm, I'm going to see if Spike needs male companionship," Andrew said, grabbing two cookies and chasing after Buffy's boyfriend.

"So, I think Angel did remorse with a lot more sexy brooding and a lot less annoyance," Dawn said, twisting around on the stool.

"I see Angel as more of a Luis and Spike as more of a Lestate," Willow offered.

Buffy gathered up the glasses to wash, making a face as she did so. "Ew. Can we not compare the real vampires to the imagined ones? Besides, Lestat definitely never came around from being evil."

Munching happily on her cookie Dawn asked, "Does anyone know what's going on with Xander and Anya? Because they are like friendly which is weird since I'm pretty sure she was determined to hate him."

Willow and Buffy glanced at each other. "I don't know, Dawny. Whatever is between them is complicated and definitely none of our business."

She made a face. "It's not like I was just going to blurt it out and ask Anya –"

"Ask me what?" said the very woman, popping into the kitchen. "Oh! Cookies."

"Cookies?" Xander hurried in after his ex. "Does this mean we're meeting Davie Smith?"

"What?" Dawn gasped. "You're coming to dinner too?"

He looked at her as if she was stupid. "Obviously. Who is going to play your overprotective father figure if I'm not there?"

She returned his look. "I was kind of thinking the vampire in the basement would."

"Spike?" Xander asked aghast.

"What about me?" Cool fingers wove with Buffy's as Spike took up residence beside her, the basement door swinging shut on Andrew who gave a cry of pain. Buffy felt she was correct in assuming that Andrew's constant talking had chased Spike out of his basement dwelling.

Once again, they were all crowded in the kitchen which suddenly seemed way too small for seven people. Maybe it was a good thing Giles wasn't here. Buffy wasn't sure they had any room left.

"Wha – why would Spike be at dinner?"

Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow. "'Cause I'm dating the Niblet's sister? Why would _you_ be at dinner?"

"Me? I've known Dawn all her life!"

"Yeah, and?"

"And – and I care about her so I should get to be at the dinner doing manly things to scare Davie Smith away." Xander grabbed a cookie and bit down triumphantly.

Spike curled Buffy into his chest; she rested her cheek against his unbeating chest. "Niblet, who gets to threaten the whelp, me or nancy boy here?"

Buffy grinned into Spike's shirt, loving how ridiculous this entire conversation was and the fact that Dawn could finally see how much everyone cared about her.

"No one! No one –"

"What about me?" Willow asked. "I mean, I – I kinda played the butch with Tara and so – so I feel I should get to be all macho too."

Spike and Xander looked over at Willow in disbelief. "Will, really, I don't think –"

"Red, you're softer than the kitten mitts you've got on. You play the supportive Aunt, yeah, and leave the threatening to me and Buffy."

"Hey! I'll be doing the threatening with Buffy!" Xander argued.

Anya passed a cookie to Andrew. "This is all very boring," she said none too quietly.

"Really? I think it's like a live soap opera," Andrew said in an audible whisper.

"Buffy!" Dawn whined, looking to her for support.

She shrugged. "Please, Dawn. You didn't think we'd be all _Full House_ about this, did you? He's your first boyfriend. Obviously we are going to be obsessive about it. But I promise, I won't let anyone get out of control and I'll make nice with Davie Smith, although, with a fine underlying of disapproval.

Dawn made a noise of frustration. "So no helping."

"But, you're going to have to pick Xander or Spike for the macho thing, because I think two machos might make it a bit scary for Davie. Especially since he thinks I've been to jail."

"Jail?" Xander asked.

"Yes, can you even believe that?" Buffy pouted.

Spike laughed. "Yeah, actually I can. I don't know any other girls who –"

"Spike!" Dawn shouted. "Spike will do the scary macho thing because Spike does scary and evil a lot scarier and eviler than Xander. So Xander, you do the less macho thing."

"And what would that be?" he asked, sulking.

"The pulling him aside for a conversation in which you subtly threaten him thing."

Xander lit up. "Ha! The more important macho thing!"

Spike blinked. "Whatever, whelp. See if he needs a talking to after I'm through with him."

"Alright, testosterone," Buffy said sternly, "Davie Smith won't be here till Friday, so let's save the machoing until then."

With a hostile look at one another, they subsided.

"Fine."

"Whatever."

"Perfect. You guys set up the living room for discussion mode. Dawn you get to work on your homework if you really want to join us," Buffy directed.


	19. Chapter 19

**A.N.** Thanks for the comments! Special thanks to CailinRua because I so love Andrew too!

* * *

"I don't see how this is helping us," Anya said an hour and half later. "We've gone over all the evil Angelus did and I don't see any connection to the ghost demon."

Buffy rubbed the side of her face, afraid to admit that Anya was right. "There has to be something we're missing."

"Like what, Pet?" Spike asked from beside Buffy. He was standing up next to the couch, his hands behind his back as he leaned against the wall. "You've got the Scoobies' view and you've got my inside view. Nothing doing."

Willow shook her head. "It has to be here, it's the only thing that makes sense."

"If you take Buffy's dream at face value. But maybe coming back from the dead messed with her Slayer abilities." Anya gave Buffy a penetrating look.

"Anya!" Xander grabbed her knee. "There is nothing wrong with Buffy. If she said it was a slayer vision, it was."

"I was just –"

"Then just don't," Spike said icily.

Silence engulfed the group, tense and frustrated. Spike and Anya had always gotten on rather well since they were both the demons or ex-demons of the group. Their little tiff didn't bode well for everyone working as a cohesive group. Then, the silence was broken most unexpectedly by Andrew. "Maybe we aren't looking far enough."

Buffy glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Warren was dead for a while before he, uh, came to me. So maybe we shouldn't be looking at just when Angelus was around, maybe we should look, you know, after too."

The Scoobies took this in, puzzling over what it could mean.

"Hey! Hey!" Dawn said, running down the stairs from where she had obviously been perched on the top step, not doing her homework as Buffy had told her to do. "Remember when Angel was seeing those ghosts after he came back? On the Christmas when it snowed?"

Buffy's adrenaline spiked. "Yes . . . yes! Jenny! He saw Jenny and she told him to kill me!" She jumped up in her excitement, unsettling Willow who was sitting next to her.

"What ghosts, now?" Spike asked, unaware of what they were talking about.

"It called itself the First Evil and it was trying to make Angel kill me. He was having all these dreams about the people he had killed and I got sucked into them. The First wanted him to kill me, and it came to him as Jenny Calendar. This – this actually makes sense." Buffy fell back on the couch, blown away by the Scoobies' ability to solve the situation.

"The First Evil?" Spike repeated.

"Yes," she nodded.

"So how do we kill it?" he asked.

Willow and Buffy frowned. "The thing is," she said, "you don't."

"Come again?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"You can't kill the First," Anya took over. "I've been around for more than a thousand years, I've bumped into the First a few times. It's not a demon so much as it is an entity, an energy. And you can't destroy energy."

Willow was nodding along to this. Xander looked less enthused. "So we've got an evil we really can't defeat? Because I know a bunch of other evil things that said similar 'you can't kill me!' things . . ."

Anya shook her head. "No, Xander. It's not another evil thing, it's the source of evil. It's where evil came from originally."

"Think of it like God versus the Devil. You can't destroy the Devil," added Willow.

"Well, we can't just let it devour us," Dawn said nervously, coming to sit on the couch.

Buffy wrapped one arm around her. "I'm not going to let anything devour you, Dawn. We'll figure this out. We beat it back once, we can do it again."

"But – but you didn't beat it back, Buffy," Willow said apologetically. "It just kind of left on its own."

Buffy fought to stay positive. "Okay, true, but now that we know what it is and we don't have to battle it immediately, at least in theory, we can you know, get with the researching."

"Yes, research! I can go to the Magic Box with Anya and bring back lots of good research materials," Andrew said excitedly, standing up.

They all looked at him, but then again, why not. "Okay, you and Anya take care of that. Xander can you go pick up the Chinese? Dawn, go do your homework now."

Grudgingly, they each complied. When they had departed, Willow, Spike, and Buffy were the only ones in the living room. The trio shared an uneasy look.

"Not to be negative Nora, but what do you really think our odds are, Buffy?" Willow asked shyly.

Buffy forced herself to look unwavering. "Good. I mean, we actually know what we are facing now, and hey, we got rid of Glory and that was supposed to be impossible."

"Yeah, but, Love, you died." Spike sat down on the arm of the couch.

She sagged against him. "Oh, right."

Willow gave them a fleeting glance. "I'm going to see if there's anything in my books upstairs. And probably take back my positive thinking book from Andrew's room while I'm at it."

Once she had disappeared up the stairwell, Buffy buried her face in Spike's chest. He held her against him, kissing the top of her head. "We'll figure this out, Precious. I haven't met an evil yet that you haven't slayed."

"Or died slaying?" Buffy mumbled against the soft material of his black t-shirt.

"Hey," Spike pulled away from her. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Buffy. I'd die before I let that happen. Well, I'd die again, a more permanent death."

And even though she didn't want to, even though the weight of the world was back on her shoulders, Buffy laughed. Spike smiled down at her; leaning over, he kissed her. Buffy gave herself over to the kiss, which meant it became less of a kiss and more of a make out.

Eventually, Buffy was pressed against the length of the couch with Spike on top of her, kissing her so thoroughly, she completely forgot about the other occupants of the house and the ones who were on their way back. Spike's hands traced up Buffy's shirt, pushing up her bra to cup her breasts.

She sighed against his lips, her fingers trailing over the waist band of his jeans. "We probably shouldn't be doing this, anyone could walk in."

Spike nipped at her skin. "I don't give a sod about that, Precious."

Buffy's hands worked their way back up to his shoulders. "But I do." She pressed gently against him. With a scowl, Spike got off her; however, the next moment he had grabbed Buffy's hips and hoisted her effortlessly onto his lap, where he trapped her in his arms, his chin hooking over her shoulder.

"You going to tell the Poof the good news?" Spike asked, his words tickling Buffy's neck.

She covered his arms with hers, feeling rather perfect in his embrace. "I think I'll let him sweat it out for a while. He wasn't so forth coming with the help."

Spike chuckled, the sound reverberating through her back. Nothing else made Buffy feel like they were one the way this did, with the exception of when he was biting her. "I had no idea you and the Great Poof weren't peas in a pod. If I had . . . well I bloody well wouldn't have spent so much time being jealous of him."

His words caused a grin to curve Buffy's lips. "You were jealous of Angel?"

"He had Dru twisted around his little finger and you two were such a sodding item."

"You know how ridiculous that is right? I mean, I was a child when we dated and that doesn't make what I felt for him mean any less, because he was the first man I ever loved and I will always love him on some level. But this thing, with us?" Buffy craned her neck so she could see Spike as she spoke. "It's so different. It's so much more and it scares me. You know me better than anyone I've ever met and you understand me, which is really the worst part."

His arms tightened around her. "Why is that the worst part, Precious?"

"Because I can't hide from you. I can't put up defenses and block you out, you're already in."

Spike kissed the pearly skin on Buffy's neck. "You've had me for years, Buffy. Once I met you, there was never anyone else. Course, I wasn't going to be a whelp about it, follow you around like that lovesick puppy Angel."

Her lips compressed into a line to keep from laughing. "Right, because 'Out for a walk, Bitch,' is the height of maturity in the courting process."

"Yeah, well, can't blame a bloke for trying."

"A lot less trying, a lot more insulting."

"Never said I was Romeo," he replied without apology.

Buffy twisted around in his lap so that his arms were bracing her back and she was able to see his face, her hands playing with the collar of his shirt. "I never really liked Shakespeare and Romeo was a sap. If he hadn't flipped out, he and Juliet could have lived happily ever after and anyway, Juliet was only like what, thirteen?"

Spike's expression showed surprise. "You know Shakespeare, Pet?"

"What, like you don't?"

"Never took you for the school book type, thought that was more of Red's area."

Buffy shrugged. "I've been known to open a book or two when forced. We read it in class, otherwise, probably would have failed the test."

He smiled. "Sounds more like you."

"And you?" She jabbed a finger into his chest. "What's your excuse for knowing Shakespeare?"

"I've been around for more than century. You pick some things up." But from the way he was skirting her eyes, Buffy knew there was more to it. But at that moment, the front door opened on the smell of fried rice, preventing her from harassing Spike for more information.

Buffy scrambled off his lap, mouth watering. "Xander! Let me help you." She snatched the bags from him and ran to the kitchen. In true Summers' style, Dawn was the next one in the kitchen, beating out the two boys in the living room, demonstrating how much Summers women love their Chinese.

"Egg Fu Yung?" Dawn asked eagerly, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet. Buffy passed a bag her way and she tore into it. In three minutes flat, they had all the food laid out and a plate each piled high with their food.

Spike and Xander had just wandered in, Willow close behind them. They stared at the sisters in surprise, but Dawn and Buffy walked right past, sitting down together at the kitchen table. "You snooze, you lose," Dawn offered for explanation, then dug in.

Ten minutes later, Spike was standing behind Buffy's seat, drinking his blood from a mug, surveying the eating demolition with mild amusement. Dawn and Buffy were fighting over the last egg roll and Andrew was battling it out with Anya over what really went into making Chinese food. The group was loud and chaotic, but it felt right, everything was falling into place after having been out of wack for so long. Of course, Buffy should have known that meant an apocalypse was just around the corner.

* * *

"Did I mention this is worse than homework?" Dawn groaned, her head smacking down on the open textbook she had been reading.

"Yeah, I think I liked it better when I was being anti-social." Andrew scooted closer to Dawn as if to align himself with her way of thinking.

"Hey, if you two want to throw the towel in, go for it. But that means no fortune cookies," Buffy said. The agreement at dinner had been no fortune cookie eating until they had come up with something useful to use against the First.

Spike was hunched over a book in the corner of the room, one arm twisted behind his head, the book perched on his knees. "Bloody pointless, this. Whoever this wanker the First is, he stayed well out of the ink."

Willow sighed. "I'm sorry, Buffy, but I have to agree with Spike. I don't think we are getting anywhere."

"Good! Then Xander and I can go home now." Anya stood up expectantly.

"She doesn't mean –" Xander started but didn't get to finish.

"Yes, I do. I don't see how this affects me. I am a Vengeance Demon again. I should be helping the First if –"

"Demon!" Spike stood up, the book clattering to the floor. Buffy stared at him.

"Yeah . . . Anya's a demon," Xander said slowly as if Spike had gone crazy again.

Spike gave him a contemptuous look. "I can work the demon circuit with Vengie here. We can root around, find out if any of the other demons have heard anything about this big bad."

The entire room turned to stare at them now. "You and Anya?" Buffy asked to clarify.

"Yeah, we're the only demons in the room, Pet." Spike gave her a pointed look.

Willow shifted uncomfortably, Xander's jaw tightened, Buffy's fingers clenched against her wishes.

"Uhm," Andrew raised his hand. "Aren't you dating Buffy now? Or did I really miss something confined to my room and you're still sleeping with Anya?"

If possible, the tension in the room increased tenfold. Dawn slapped the backside of Andrew's head and he whined. Spike's cool blue gaze shot to Buffy; her teeth were worrying her lip in a frantic motion that she couldn't seem to stop.

"If there was another demon in the Scooby gang, I'd go with them. But it's just Anya and I here." Spike spoke slowly and clearly as if he thought his words could stop the disturbing thoughts racing through Buffy's brain, the same thoughts that were so evident in Xander's pained expression.

"Yes, but if you want it to be –" Anya said cheerfully.

"Anya," Spike barked. Buffy was instantly reminded of the vampire he had been when he first arrived in Sunnydale, seemingly uncomposed and crazy. He could go from simple conversation to screaming at the drop of the hat. The affect was as frightening now as it had been then. "Are you in or not?"

She stood up. "I'm in."

"Then let's go. It's just about night life time for the demon circuit, no point in waiting till tomorrow." He stalked out the front door, Anya hurrying behind him.

No one in the living room said anything for quite some time. They might have stayed that way, immobilized by the turn of events if it hadn't been for Andrew. "So I'm still confused. Who's sleeping with whom?"

Dawn smacked him harder this time and that one motion brought the rest of the adults back to life. "Spike is dating Buffy. Anya is still Xander's ex . . . I think." Dawn's eyes flashed over to the man in question.

Xander was clenching the textbook tightly between white knuckles. "Yeah. Ex. My ex is out there with that –"

"Xander," Willow warned with a look at Buffy.

"We need to know what's going on. If they find something out, great. If they don't, at least we know we didn't leave any rock unmoved . . . or whatever," Buffy said with more conviction than she felt.

"Stone unturned," Willow corrected quietly, her worried gaze fixed on Xander.

"If we're done with the books, I'm going home." Xander put the book down on the coffee table with unnecessary force.

"Andrew!" Buffy said hastily.

He looked up, surprised. "Yeah?"

"Xander, can you take Andrew with you? The house has been a little crowded lately and you still have the closet room, so . . ."

Xander nodded, but Buffy wasn't sure he even registered her words. "See you guys tomorrow." He left without looking back at Andrew, so Andrew got up and ran after him.

"I will return soon, my lovely maidens," Andrew gave the girls a ridiculously low bow before shutting the door. Through the door they heard him shouting, "Xander, wait up! Can we watch the _Star Wars_ trilogy tonight?"

Willow got up, turning the lock on the door. "Anyone need the shower?"

Dawn and Buffy shook their heads; Willow meandered her way up the stairs. Buffy looked to the kitchen and felt a small smiling curve her lips. "Fortune cookies?" she asked.

"We have ten, all to ourselves," Dawn smiled.

Scrambling upward, they raced each other to the kitchen. Dawn beat Buffy by throwing an elbow and got to lay claim to her choice of the cookies. She piled up five and cracked into the first one. Ripping the fortune from it, she shoved the cookie into her mouth.

Buffy took the fluttering paper and read over the inscription. "Wealth and prosperity shine down on you."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Not likely, unless you raise my allowance."

"Keep dreaming," Buffy said, picking up her own cookie.

"Are you, uhm, okay?" Dawn asked, chasing the cookie down with a gulp of water from the sink. Buffy made a face and Dawn returned it, but got a glass out of the cabinet.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm fine." She toyed with the cookie, turning it over in her fingers, feeling the ridiculously smooth shell.

"Because, if it was my boyfriend out with a girl he boinked after we broke up –"

"Dawn, I get it," Buffy cut her off.

"Just saying." She broke open her second cookie, pausing to read the fortune first this time. "Your wishes for love will soon be requited." She let out a girlish cry. "Davie Smith, meet your future girlfriend!"

Buffy picked up Dawn's glass, taking a drink of water. "Yeah, we'll see about that on Friday."

"Read one of yours." She nodded to the cookie still in Buffy's hand.

Holding on to either end of the folded cookie, Buffy broke it open. The fortune fell slowly to the counter top. Putting half the cookie in her mouth and other half in her left hand, she picked up the fortune.

"What is now is not what was." Buffy blinked, unimpressed. "Did you purposefully give me the crappy cookies?"

Dawn laughed. "Luck of the draw."

"Right. Well, I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late, got it?" Buffy gave her a stern look.

Dawn hugged her quickly. "Got it. No late nights. Love you."

"Love you too, Dawny."

* * *

The bed felt oddly empty without Spike sharing it with her. It was strange how quickly you could get use to another person's presence. It was always difficult, so difficult, to assemble your life without them, and yet, at the start of it all, they fit so seamlessly in.

Buffy tossed and turned for the better part of an hour, sleep eluding her. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't because Spike was out on the town with Anya. She tried to tell herself she didn't care what had happened between them in the past, Spike was quite literally a different person now. She tried to tell herself a lot of things. But in the end, the only thought that gave Buffy rest was that if they stayed out late enough, Spike would get dusted by the sun.

The shifting of the mattress woke Buffy. Her hand came up with a stake, the one she kept on her nightstand for just in case scenarios.

"Hey now," Spike said, catching her wrist easily.

"Oh," Buffy breathed, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. "It's you."

"Yeah, it's me."

She put the stake back on the night stand and rolled over to keep sleeping. Buffy was still annoyed about earlier, but she didn't want to talk about it because she knew how childish it would sound. Spike wasn't that easily pacified though.

He took her arms gently in his and rolled Buffy over to face him. "What's wrong, Precious?"

"What time is it?" she asked, deflecting.

"After three."

"And I'm awake. That's what's wrong." Buffy pulled away from him.

"Don't you want to hear about my night?"

"You can tell me tomorrow. When I'm not sleeping."

He kissed her shoulder. "Could be a really interesting tidbit I learned."

Buffy ignored him. Spike swept the hair from the nape of her neck, placing delicate kisses over the revealed skin. "Could solve the whole thing."

Her skin tingled from his kisses, Buffy told her heartbeat to quit reacting, she knew Spike could hear it running into overdrive. He ran his nose across her back then worked his way down her spine kiss by kiss. Buffy's eyes were wide open, staring at her night stand as she focused all her energy on not responding to him.

"Could be worth your time," he whispered, his lips ghosting over her skin as he spoke. "Are you jealous, Pet?" he asked so quietly Buffy had to strain to hear him.

She gritted her teeth, absolutely refusing to deign him with an answer. If he wanted to think that Buffy was jealous of his evening in the park with Anya then that was entirely up to –

"I like jealousy on you, shows me how much you care. You know I'd bite any man who tried to get close to you, but to know you feel the same?" Spike laughed quietly. "It makes me remember what it is to be cared for, not that I only care for you, because I cherish you and I would never do anything to hurt you, at least not intentionally, Buffy," his words cut off her track of thought and warmed her in all sorts of pleasant ways.

Buffy's anger was melting away, but she still wanted to cling to the feeling of being wronged. Spike couldn't just sweet talk her into not caring about what had happened. She wasn't that fickle.

"Because, you know you're the only woman I love, that I have ever loved, and that I will ever love," Spike continued, emphasizing his words with a kiss at the edge of her jaw.

Okay, maybe she was that fickle. Buffy turned back around, latching her lips onto his, drinking in the softness of his lips and the way it felt to be held in his arms again. Spike smiled into the kiss, his hands around Buffy's back, cradling her against him.

"You're a jerk," she told him when they parted.

"Me?" he asked surprised.

"I mean, I'm not jealous of Anya, because I'm not. But after –"

Spike put a finger to her lips; Buffy bit down gently. "It's Anya. Yeah, she's not a bad looking bird," Buffy growled, "but," he continued, "I can't see anyone but you. I register that there are other females in the world, but you're the only one I _see_, Buffy."

She kissed his finger, appeased. "It was lonely here without you."

Spike stroked her hair. "Is that right?"

"I had to resort to Mr. Gordo's company." Buffy reached behind her to hold up her stuffed pig.

Spike grinned. "Should I feel threatened?"

"He has been around a lot longer than you."

Spike grabbed the stuffed animal and tossed it across the room. "I'll take care of Mr. Gordo tomorrow."

"You won't be touching Mr. Gordo," Buffy said sternly.

"We'll see, Pet." Spike ghosted his lips over her collar bone, up the side of her neck, pausing a moment to kiss her scar, then continuing up to her jaw line, then over her mouth. "I've missed you, Buffy."

"You were only gone for –"

His lips fell back on her scar. Buffy exhaled slowly as Spike licked the sensitive skin. "I've missed you," he repeated solemnly.

Titling her neck ever so slightly, she invited him to bite her. Without hesitation, Spike sank his fangs deep into the skin. Buffy tensed for a moment before she was carried away in the blissful calm that stole over her at the sensation of Spike drinking her blood.

For the first time, Spike seemed to be drinking out of hunger. He lapped at the blood that dribbled over when he was done. Their thoughts hadn't been pulled together the way they had before, but it was still an incredibly intimate gesture. When he was done, his tongue ran over his lips removing any traces of his preferred meal.

Buffy rested her head on her pillow, watching him in the moonlight that spilled into her bedroom. Thinking Spike wouldn't return to her bed that night, Buffy hadn't bothered to pull the blinds. Lifting one finger, she traced the shape of his lips. "Not enough blood for dinner?"

Spike kissed her fingertip. "Had to tussle it out with some demons for the information, didn't I? Enough to work up a bloke's appetite."

"This seems like a very lecherous relationship. You know, as in leach." Buffy spent a moment worrying about her blood platelet levels.

"You're a slayer, your blood will regenerate quicker than the average human's." He spoke flippantly, but his expression was nothing close.

"Hey," she said, curving her hand over his cheek and drawing his gaze to her. "What are you thinking, William?"

His bottom jaw jutted out, for him the absolute definition of stubbornness, but to Buffy's surprise, he answered her question. "You don't like me feeding from you."

Buffy blinked, feeling a little off kilter. "I mean, I'd rather we could split a milk shake, but it's definitely not the worst."

"You compared me to a leach," Spike accused.

"Hello? Logical comparison. You suck blood. Leaches suck blood."

"I don't suck blood," he grumbled, "I drink your blood. I like drinking your blood."

"Okay, now I feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside," Buffy said with heavy sarcasm.

Spike pulled away from her, sitting up, his long legs slung over the side of the bed. "If you can't stand what I am, Buffy –"

"When did I ever say that?" she asked, crawling over to him, the sheet held high around her. She draped her arms over his shoulders, her head on her arm so that she was speaking directly into his ear. "I love you, Spike. I'm just still adjusting to this whole you want to have sex with me and also have me as an energy drink."

He scoffed. "You're not a bloody energy drink. Oh bugger it! You're not blood to me, Buffy. You are the sweetest wine, the most intoxicating nourishment that has ever passed my lips. I can't help wanting you any more than I can help loving you."

She took a moment to ponder this over. "I don't want to be a Happy Meal with legs, is that okay?"

"Yeah, a' course it is," his words were blurred with some emotion Buffy couldn't identify.

"I like when you drink from me, it makes me feel connected to you. But I don't want to feel like I'm dinner. I want feel like your girlfriend."

Spike growled, tugging Buffy around him until she was centered on his lap. "You are my girlfriend. And I don't want to have _sex_ with you; I want to make love to you. So I won't drink from you . . . like that again. Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded slowly, inching forward until their lips were connected. "Is this us working out our problems with words?" Buffy asked, her eyes closed as her lips brushed against his with every syllable.

"No, it was –"

"Because that would be so very adult of us. Like a real functioning relationship."

Spike cupped her face in his hands. "Shut up and kiss me."

Buffy happily complied.


	20. Chapter 20

Buffy woke up to the delicious sensation of her bare chest pressed against Spike's corded one. She loved the way their skin felt together. So hot and cool at the same time, it was hard for Buffy to focus when they were pressed against each other like that. Still she had work and her alarm was screaming at her to get up.

Spike slept like the dead. Not stirring at the sound and not stirring when Buffy left the bed. He continued to lie completely still as she got ready for work. Before she left the room, Buffy bent over his sleeping form, kissing his temple. "I love you," she whispered.

"Love you more," he mumbled, startling her.

"Spike?" she asked, unsure if he was awake.

He didn't make a sound. A slow smile curved Buffy's mouth.

Once they reached school, Dawn was out of the car in a flash in her eagerness to catch up with Davie Smith. Buffy swung around to the parking lot and took a spot in the teacher's parking zone.

Her morning and afternoon were rather dull. No students had gotten into fights, there weren't any questionable remarks made in class or written in papers. Buffy spent most of her time flipping covertly through one of the textbooks she thought might help with the First. She kept it partially under her desk for fear a passerby might see her reading and ask about it.

By the time the final bell rang, Buffy was more than ready to go home. Spike had never gotten around to telling her what he found out from the demons, if anything, and she was keeping her fingers crossed that he did have some helpful information for her.

To her surprise, Dawn was waiting outside the guidance office when the final bell rang. The angelic look on her face told Buffy that she wanted something, badly, and didn't think her older sister would give it to her.

"What?" Buffy asked, not bothering with pleasantries. Dawn followed her down the hallways as Buffy made her way toward the exit.

"Davie agreed to Friday's dinner and you know, since he did, I was wondering if it would be alright if he gave me a ride home."

"You're grounded," Buffy said flatly.

"Yes, but, he would drive me straight home, no stopping for ice cream, or whatever." Dawn's already large eyes grew wider with her pleading.

"I'm driving to our house, it doesn't make sense for you to not ride with me. And as Super Recycler Summers, I feel it incumbent upon me to remind you that carpooling is better for the o-zone."

Dawn grabbed her sister's hands, stopping Buffy from heading out the door to the parking lot. "Please, Buffy? Pretty please?"

Working to keep her face neutral, Buffy said, "Fine. But only this once."

"Oh my gosh!" Dawn squealed. "You are so the best big sister ever!" She clasped Buffy in a tight hug before running off down the hall.

"Don't I know it," Buffy said to herself, smiling as she watched Dawn tell Davie the good news. Davie Smith gave her two thumbs up, Buffy tried not to cringe.

* * *

"Hello," Buffy called, entering the house a short ten minutes later. From the kitchen she could hear murmured voices; she traced them to the source and found herself completely shocked. Willow and Spike were leaning across the counter towards each other, having a conversation. An honest to god conversation without anyone trying to attack anyone.

Buffy stood there gaping until Spike turned to her with a lazy expression. "Have a good day, Pet?"

Quickly, Buffy tried to regroup herself, walking fully into the kitchen and into his open arms. He gathered her close, his head propped on the crown of hers. "It was alright. Yours?"

"Red and I were just talking about the stuff Anya and I learned last night."

"Yes, they actually found out something that might help us . . . well I mean, really we kind of pieced it together once Spike told me but . . ." Willow trailed off.

Buffy escaped the confines of Spike's embrace to take a seat on one of the kitchen stools. Spike was not put off, he simply sat down beside her, dragging Buffy's stool over to his so that his arms were looped around her waist once more.

Willow gave a little smile at the show of affection. For her part, Buffy was still too dazed. "You mean, we actually have something to go on?"

She nodded eagerly. "Spike said all the demons were talking about the energy shift and how they hadn't felt anything like it in two years."

"Two years?" Buffy echoed unclear of the implication.

"Right," Spike said, sharing a look with Willow. "Two years. And what bright ball of energy turned teenage girl showed up on your doorstep two years ago?"

"Dawn?" The word came out in complete disbelief.

"Hey, no," Spike said quickly accurately reading his girlfriend's thoughts. "It's not about using Dawn, Precious."

"Oh, god, no, Buffy, that's not what I meant," Willow said hastily. "It's not about Dawn - Dawn, it's about you know, how Dawn came to be."

Buffy looked to Spike for an explanation. "Dawn was energy, right? So the monks bound her into a human. They made something that was ethereal, tangible."

Buffy rested her head against the curve of his shoulder, trying really hard to work through all of this, but her mind felt sluggish. The all consuming terror she felt on thinking it was Dawn in danger again was hard to fight off. Spike rested his cheek against hers in a comforting gesture.

Willow looked away, a light blush blossoming in her cheeks. She took a glass down from the cabinet and filled it with water before pushing it across the counter to her best friend. "This is a good thing, Buffy," she said when Buffy accepted the glass.

Thirstily, Buffy drained the contents of the glass. "Okay. The First is energy. Dawn was energy. Energy can be made corporeal. Is that what we're getting at?"

Willow nodded. "Exactly."

She frowned. "So what's the plan, exactly?" Her hands fell to cover Spike's, her fingers tracing anxious patterns over his cool skin.

"Red is going to find a way to bind the First. If we can make it flesh and blood, we can kill it."

"It'll probably take some doing, but I think, if the monks could do it, so can we. I mean, I could find a coven and you know, maybe with enough power, we could perform the spell. We've done some crazy stuff before, to defeat Adam, you know. And my own crazy power trip last year." She shuddered. "Of course, really not looking for a repeat performance there."

"Right," Buffy said, feeling more tired than she had a right to.

"I mean, it's not like we'll be able to really destroy the First what with the whole 'I'm the source of the first evil' thing and all. But if we can bind it and kill the object that it's bound to, then we should be able to dilute the power enough that it'll take a while for the First to get back on its evil feet."

Buffy nodded along. "Okay, yeah. That actually makes sense."

"So we'll just get started with the research and . . ."

Willow fidgeted with the cuffs of her billowing shirt, Spike rubbed his cheek over Buffy's. They were waiting for her decision. "We don't tell her. I don't – I don't want her to feel –"

"Of course, Buffy. Whatever you want," Willow said, visibly relaxing.

But beside her, Spike shook his head. "That's a mistake, Precious. The Niblet is going to find out, whether you tell her or not. And that didn't work out too hot last time."

Buffy's brow line furrowed in a frown. "I'm not asking your opinion, Spike, this is my little sister and –"

"I'm not giving you my opinion, Buffy. I'm telling you. You need to tell Dawn. If you don't, she'll be upset. I know you're trying to protect her, Love. But sometimes, that's not the right thing to do."

She sagged against Spike, his logic unbelievably hard to deny. Willow was back to fidgeting with her cuffs. "Maybe we could wait until we find out if we are even capable of doing the spell, if the spell even exists, if . . ."

"Yeah, the whole Scooby gang knows and makes veiled references, but the Niblet is left out of the loop?" Spike snorted. "Bloody brilliant plan."

"Yes – but –"

"No," Buffy said wearily, "Spike is right. I have to tell her."

"We'll help you," Willow offered in earnest.

"Thanks, Will. But this is something I have to do on my own. I owe that to her." Spike's arms constricted around her in a hug which Buffy sunk gratefully into. "You suck," she said so quietly only he could hear her.

Buffy could almost feel his grin. "130 years and not just a pretty face," he whispered back.

Buffy couldn't help but laugh. "You're such a loser."

She broke free of Spike's grasp and went to the front porch. She yanked the door open, one hand on her hip. Willow came up beside Buffy, her expression curious. "I let Dawn get a ride with Davie Smith. They should be here by now."

Together, they peered down the street. As if on cue, a beat up Ranger Rover turned down the street with exaggerated carefulness. The boy had to be going 25 exactly. Buffy was unimpressed.

"Smoochies," Willow said.

"Definitely with the smoochies," Buffy agreed.

The two women pulled their features into dower expressions, but when Dawn got out of the car, she was not swayed by their disapproval. Her expression remained the absolute essence of undaunted joy. Davie beeped the horn as he pulled out of the driveway; Dawn gave him a dreamy wave.

"Isn't he a dreamboat?" she asked, sauntering past them and into the house.

Willow and Buffy shared a look during which they fought terribly hard to keep their sour expressions and failed miserably.

* * *

"So when are you going to tell the Niblet?" Spike asked. He was drawing patterns with black body paint on Buffy's back. She didn't ask what he was drawing, choosing instead just to enjoy the pleasurable sensation of the feather light brushes of the paint over her bare skin.

"Not until after Friday. I want everything to be perfect for Davie Smith day. Finding out that we are basically trying to recreate the science experiment that brought you into being? I think that falls outside the realm of happy news."

"Dawn's a tough girl, she'll be okay," he said confidently.

"I just hate reminding her that she is anything less than one hundred percent normal." Buffy blew her bangs out of her face.

Spike paused his painting to laugh. "You aren't serious, are you, Buffy? Because you're a Slayer, Willow's a Witch, Anya's an ex-demon, and I'm a vampire. We aren't exactly the normal person's support group."

"Xander's normal," she said, miffed.

"Right. The Nancy Boy who dated a mummy, a bug woman, and left an ex-demon at the alter is the postcard for normal." He resumed his brush strokes.

Buffy frowned. "Not so much with the helping, Boyfriend."

"I'm just saying, Pet, don't worry about her feeling normal. Worry about her not feeling weird enough, that's how you actually fit into this messed up group."

"Always so helpful," she grumbled.

"Now, about Davie Smith, how much am I allowed to traumatize him?"

* * *

Friday arrived without any outward appearances of being different from any other day, but the Summers' household was on edge. Dawn banged on the bathroom door when she thought Buffy was taking too long; Buffy retaliated by using all the hot water for her shower; Willow was extra fidgety at breakfast, resulting in spilled Coco Puffs; and Spike was doing something in the basement that involved a lot of clanking.

At work, Buffy scrutinized all the students who came to her with extra vigilance, casually slipping in Davie's name to see if they had any negative information to share about him, but the boy seemed as wholesome as Riley had, minus the whole secret government job part.

When Buffy thought of Riley, he had to have been the most normal of her boyfriend's while at the same time being the strangest. All of his normalness, his Iowa life and gentlemanly airs had covered for a part of him that worked in the secret monster division of the military. He had been human without really being human, pumped full of unknown drugs. He had a soul without a demon attached to it and yet he continually demanded that Buffy prove her love for him, that she deal with his messes, and in the end, he hurt her the most.

Riley had been her fantasy of having a normal life, but things between them had gotten so blurred, so twisted, that she had watched her dreams literally go up in flames. Strange that normal wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

By the time the bell rang, Buffy was itching to get home and started on dinner. Willow had promised to help her with the cooking since Buffy was, she knew, terrible at it. Xander and Anya were going to bring Andrew back so that they could chain him down in the basement for the evening to prevent him from being . . . well, Andrew. Dinner was set for seven, and Buffy's palms were already sweating.

"Buffy!" Dawn said when her sister came to her locker. "Davie said he'll be over at seven, so can I get a ride home with him?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You already used that rationale, you're coming home with me today. You'll see Mr. Davie Smith in four short hours anyway." She waved to the said boy who was lurking around the corner expectantly.

His face showed disappointment, but he waved back, turning around and heading to the student parking lot. Dawn sulked. "I knew you wouldn't let me."

"At least you didn't just go with him, then there would have been more grounding involved."

"Whatever, let's go home."

When they got home, Willow was in the kitchen with a plethora of cooking supplies spread out on the counter. Spike was leaning against the back wall, drinking slowly from his mug of blood. He looked up at Buffy's arrival, raising an eyebrow in question of Willow's supplies.

"Spaghetti, garden salad, garlic bread, and chocolate cake for desert," Buffy explained, her eyes running over the ingredients. Her heart rate sped up. "I so can't do this!"

Willow hurried around the counter, taking Buffy's arm in hers before she could escape. "Yes, you can. And I'll be right here to guide you through everything. I have been known to whip up a tasty dish or two in my time."

Dawn stood in the archway, smiling. "Should I order pizza as a back up?"

"No," Buffy said. "Everything will be perfect." Famous last words, she knew. "Go do your homework."

Dawn stuck out her tongue, but bounded up the stairs nonetheless. Turning back to Willow, Buffy asked with rising panic, "Where do we start?"

"Chocolate cake," she said confidently, pointing to the pile of cake mix, eggs, milk, and other such things.

"Right. People make cake all the time, how hard can it be?"

Spike snorted into his mug of blood. "People drive all the time too, Pet. But you –"

"Spike," Willow said in warning. He lifted his mug in apology, pushing off the wall and heading down into the basement. "Alright, let's get started."

* * *

At six, the food was ready and Buffy was jumping into the shower. Things had gone rather well considering her all consuming disability when it came to anything that didn't fall under breakfast foods. She'd had to throw out her first batch of spaghetti noodles when she left them boiling for too long and they ended up a hard mass stuck to the inside of the pot. Then Buffy's first attempt of garlic bread had set the fire alarm off and had Spike running up the stairs with the spare fire extinguisher. But eventually she got the hang of things and everything came out the way it was supposed to.

Now, barring any unexpected demon attack, which was definitely known to happen, the evening was set to progress as smoothly as her homemade vanilla icing. Scrubbing herself dry after the shower, Buffy blew her hair dry, added a dash of make-up, and went into her room to pick out an appropriate outfit.

Spike had nominated combat boots and rugged clothes, suggesting that Buffy play up the prison theory. She was less than pleased. Instead, Buffy chose a casual blue dress, nothing too Suzy Homemaker, but something that said she was feminine enough to own dresses like this. Of course, it was also suitable to any random outbreak of violence that might occur tonight. You should never be unprepared after all.

Standing before the mirror on the back of her door, Buffy fixed her hair for the umpteenth time and wiped a bit of stray mascara from around her right eye. As she was reaching for the door knob, someone knocked on the other side. "Come in," Buffy said, stepping back from the door.

It swung inward and Spike stepped in looking strangely anxious. "What should I wear?"

Buffy stared at him. "You don't even own that many clothes . . ."

"I know." He was wearing his usual black jeans and t-shirt, filling it out deliciously with his carved muscles. "But you burned my duster and now I have bugger all that looks dangerously imposing. Should I wear the red shirt? Should I wear –"

"None of that weird stuff," Buffy said. He lifted his scarred eyebrow. "You know, those clothes you wear when you're pretending not to be Spike. I don't like those clothes . . . they're just weird."

He smirked. "Right then, good to know my wooing tactics were always off base."

She shrugged. "I'm sorry, you just look so . . . not Spike in them."

"That was kind of the point, Pet."

"Yeah, but," Buffy trailed her fingers over the collar of his shirt, "I never asked you to be anyone else."

"So stick with this?" He motioned to his body. She nodded, biting her lip. "You're not wearing Buffy clothes," he pointed out.

She looked down at her dress. "This is so Buffy clothes."

"No, it's not. You haven't worn a dress in . . ." They both paused, thinking it over. "Well, a bloody long time then."

"That doesn't mean I never wear dresses," Buffy argued.

"And sometimes I wear the red shirt."

"Then wear the red shirt." She pushed past him, exasperated.

"Fine! Act like you don't care." He dogged her steps. She stopped abruptly and he collided with her.

"Wear the blue shirt."

"What?" Spike used their sudden closeness to connect their hands.

Buffy wiggled her fingers against his, loving the simple display of coupleness. "The blue one with the quarter length sleeves. That looked good on you and still, Spike-ish. But less . . . evil?"

They proceeded down the stairs, Buffy slightly ahead. "The blue shirt . . . it's not too poncy?"

Buffy groaned. "Spike. The only time you look poncy is when you're wearing like grey khakis and that weird other coat you have. You would even look normal in blue jeans, probably . . . or maybe not, I don't know. The point is! Wear the blue shirt, where the black shirt, Davie Smith won't be looking at you, he'll be drooling over my sister."

And Buffy was absolutely correct. Davie arrived promptly on time at seven pm, ringing the door bell and holding white daisies. Buffy accepted them, as he said, "Thanks for having me over, Ms. Summers." She tried not to let her skin crawl at being the mom figure.

"I'm glad you could come, Davie. We've all been wanting to meet you." She ushered him into the dining room where the others were already sitting.

Davie's eyes grew wide at the sight. Willow and Xander at the heads of the table, Spike sitting across from the empty seat reserved for Davie, the seat next to Spike empty for Buffy, then Dawn next to Davie's seat and Anya next to hers and Xander's.

"Uh, hi." Davie lifted his hand in a wave.

A chorus of hellos washed back over him. Dawn pointed to his seat and he slowly made his way over, eyeing everyone warily. Spike had ended up wearing the blue shirt which made the color of his eyes pop and set Buffy's blood rushing. "Dawn didn't tell me she had such a large family."

Dawn made a tittering laugh that was entirely unlike her. "Sometimes I try to forget."

Davie laughed uneasily, Spike gave him a vicious smile. With a slight smirk, Buffy took her seat. "Garlic bread anyone?"

Davie turned to Dawn, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "Sure."


	21. Chapter 21

**A.N.** Thanks to those of you who commented! They are always awesome to read =]

* * *

Everyone made it through dinner relatively unscathed. Spike and Xander took it upon themselves to grill Davie on every possible aspect of his life. This led to many uncomfortable moments during which Buffy kept pressing more salad on everyone for lack of a better way to change the topic.

Anya contributed to the conversation in her usual unfiltered fashion which created even more awkward moments that usually had some sexual underlining. Xander took to clasping her knee in his hand so that he could squeeze whenever she wandered onto dangerous territory.

Willow maintained a cheerfulness that was totally at odds with the tension radiating from all corners of the table. For her part, Buffy made sure all of her remarks were positive and as jail-less as possible. Dawn looked pained, but made sure her smile was brilliant for Davie.

After cake had been served and everyone declared himself to be full, they moved into the family room. Davie didn't stick around too long after that, begging off politely at 8:30. When Buffy locked the door behind him, Dawn turned to her hodge-podge family.

"So?"

The Scoobies poured forth an onslaught of comments all at once, their words running over each other in a totally incomprehensible babble. Within seconds, Dawn was laughing gleefully, collapsing back on the couch. "You are all so crazy," she gasped for breath.

"Hey," Spike said with a frown, "let's lay off the nutter comments, yeah?"

Buffy walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's okay. You were still sexy even when you were talking to the people in the wall."

He growled, obviously less than buoyed by her comment. She didn't care, choosing instead to press her cheek against his back and listening to his steady unneeded breathing. "I liked Davie," Buffy said. "Assuming we didn't completely scare him off, he has my seal of approval."

"Really?" Dawn asked with shinning eyes.

The others looked to Buffy then turned to Dawn with smiles. "Yes," they chorused.

"So can I go out with him tomorrow night?"

Buffy thought this over. "I guess you can be done being grounded tomorrow, so yeah."

She squealed, hugging both her sister and Spike in her attempt to thank Buffy. "I'm going to go call him to make sure that you didn't, you know, scar him for life or anything," and she beat a hasty retreat up the stairs.

Anya and Xander headed out next, then Willow went to the basement to visit with Andrew who she had taken to feeling rather badly for ever since finding out he had stolen her positive thinking book.

Spike towed Buffy over to the couch and settled her comfortably on his lap. "Not so bad, Slayer. Even I managed to eat some of your spaghetti."

"In between hostile looks at Davie."

"Well, of course." He nuzzled her neck affectionately.

"It was good, wasn't it?" she asked, kind of surprised.

"It was," he agreed, his lips moving over her skin.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Buffy teased. Pulling her hair around in her hand, she bound it to the left side of her neck with a hair tie so that it wouldn't interfere with Spike.

After a moment's delay, he sank his fangs into her skin. Buffy cooed at the feeling, growing ever used to it and starting to desire it.

Their minds melded in the brief time Spike drank from Buffy, pulling up images from their past. She saw them repeatedly on her back porch, the first time after she found out her mom was sick, the first time when she came back to life, and all of the many times in between. And all throughout the echo of Buffy saying she loved him.

It was weird enough when she heard herself from the answer machine, her voice sounded off, not the way she imagined she sounded. But these were Spike's memories, not hers and so she saw the memories through his eyes and heard herself through his ears.

When Spike pulled away, Buffy gently rested her head on his chest, listening to the silence inside. "I love you," she whispered.

His arms tightened around her. "I love you, Buffy."

Four simple words, but they held the power to make her heart soar. They enjoyed a few minutes silence, Buffy's heart beating against his silent chest, his fingers twining in her hair, and then he asked, "You're really going to let her go out with that wanker?"

"You don't like him?" Buffy asked curiously.

"I don't like anyone Dawn wants to date."

She grinned. "How very protective of you."

He snorted. "Yeah, well, it's Dawn, innit?"

Buffy's smile grew. "Yeah, it is. But everyone deserves to feel normal and her normal is Davie Smith and he's alright."

Spike sighed. "If you say so, Slayer."

She pressed a kiss to his chest. "I do."

* * *

They were up late again; Spike and Buffy curled up beside each other, staring into each other's eyes because they could be sappy like that and feel no shame. "Tell me about Drusilla," she instructed.

His eyes narrowed momentarily. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because you loved her."

"You already know about her, Pet."

Buffy shook her head, her nose rubbing against her pillow. "Really tell me about her. Why you loved her."

Spike exhaled slowly. "I haven't had a smoke since before dinner, couldn't we save this for another time."

Her finger crossed the minimal space between them to stroke down the length of his nose. "Please tell me, Spike."

He closed his eyes at her touch. "I'd never deny you anything, Precious."

"Then tell me."

"She made me a man. I was nothing until she came along and turned me. I was a poof, a greater poof than Angel, soft and stupid. When Dru sired me, she saved my life. And she loved me from the first. I didn't have to do anything to gain her love, it was instantaneous, and I loved her for that just as automatically." He paused, opening his eyes to see Buffy's reaction.

Though her heart twinged hearing him describe his love for another, she really did want to know. Buffy wanted to know everything about him and this was a big part of him. Dru was a big part of him.

"Dru was fragile, you know, so I got to care for her, and I got to feel special because she had chosen me for that sacred duty. And we were vicious together, she revealed in all of my destruction and taught me how to be even more destructive. Everything I did, I did for her, knowing it would make her happy, that she would love me more for it. I didn't view our relationship in terms of years, it was centuries we were going for."

"I'm more of a day-by-day girl," Buffy said quietly. "I haven't quite made it past the whole year mark, so . . ."

Spike didn't say anything, she watched the pain flickering in his eyes that looked black in the dark. "She was my entire world," he said finally, "until the day I met you, and you ruined everything that was me."

Buffy's teeth dug into her bottom lip. Of course she knew he had traded one obsessive love for the other, but it was still disconcerting to hear him say it.

"What were you like before?" she whispered, desperate for him to keep sharing himself, no bars held.

He traced the side of her face, blinking in the dark. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what was William like?"

Spike's smirk was self-defacing. "You wouldn't have liked him, Pet. Worse than Captain Cardboard he was. Love sick over some girl who would never give two figs about him. Even wrote poetry about her. A proper ponce, loved his mother and country, and all that rot."

Buffy smiled. "He sounds sweet."

He grimaced. "He sounds weak."

"I don't know. Poetry is kind of cool. I always liked the short ones that sound like a sneeze."

Spike pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Haikus."

"Those are the ones!"

He breathed in her scent. "Right. Want me to write you some haikus then?"

Buffy giggled it was something she rarely did and something Spike was more than capable of bringing out in her. "I've never had a boy write me poetry . . ." She snuggled closer to him, unable to remove the smile from her face. "William the Bloody writing poetry for me, the Slayer. How cool!"

Spike's laugh was ragged. "Whatever you say, Precious."

They grew quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. For Buffy it was a nice silence, wondering what kind of things Spike would write in a haiku to her, wondering if they would be dirty poems or loving ones. She hoped they would be the latter; she liked Spike the lover much more than Spike the fighter, even though he had to be both. They both did, they needed both halves, it was their duty, but with each other, they could just be lovers.

It took Buffy several minutes to realize that Spike's silence wasn't as happy as hers. She was able to tell from the way his left hand stilled on her hip, no longer rubbing soothing circles into her soft skin. She looked up at him in surprise, trying to make out his features in the shadows. "Spike?"

"Do you think we can really be forgiven for all of our sins, Buffy?" His words were thin as ice.

The breath caught in her lungs. "I believe the only way to atone for the past is to make things right now. Where ever forgiveness comes from, God, the universe, each other, it forgives but doesn't forget. So every day we have to remember why we fight the good fight and keep on fighting."

Her own past surely wasn't sin free and neither were the pasts of her friends. But that didn't stop them from being good people, it didn't stop Buffy from loving her friends, for trusting in them, and she felt no different about Spike in that aspect.

He exhaled slowly. "A thousand years would not be enough to atone for my sins."

"Then I guess it's good you've got the chance to live longer than that," Buffy teased quietly.

Spike blinked, looking at her. "I'm still dangerous, you know."

"Well, you have to be. But that doesn't mean you're going around eating people, because you aren't."

"Because of you. With you by my side, I would never do anything to fail you, I've done enough of that already."

"That's the only thing that keeps you from sucking my neighbors dry?" she reached across the mattress, interweaving their fingers.

"The blood lust is still there, the soul didn't get rid of the demon, but I don't want to hurt people, I don't want to be a monster."

"For me or for you?"

"For me – for you – for us."

Buffy scooted across the bed until his arm was around her and she was tucked securely against his side. "Then you're no more dangerous than I am. I could use my power destructively, I could be like Faith was. But I'm not. Because I don't want to be that person."

* * *

"See, here's the thing," Buffy said to Willow as she followed Willow into her room. "I haven't been shopping in a long time, what with the whole having no money and everything. But, now, I do! And Dawn and I really want to go shopping, but we really want you to go with us."

Willow didn't look particularly swayed. "Buffy, you know I'm not so much with the shopping. Me and fashion . . . we're more like acquaintances than best friends."

"And I totally understand that. But, you can oh and ah over the clothes Dawn and I try on. We could even by you a fruit smoothie from the food court!" Buffy bartered.

A tiny smile flickered on her lips. "I do love fruit smoothies . . ."

"Yes! Fruit smoothies are very good!" Dawn chimed in, two hands on the door frame, a wide smile gracing her features.

"So you, me, Dawn, fruit smoothies, store sales, and lots of bonding," Buffy said with satisfaction.

"Should we invite Anya?" Willow asked. "I think she's been feeling kind of left out ever since the not-wedding."

"Uhm," Dawn sidled into Willow's bedroom, "I think Anya is more into the collection of money than in the spending of it."

"Very true," Buffy agreed, brushing her hair behind her ear as she peered into Willow's mirror.

"Still, I think we should at least ask."

"Whatever you want, Will. Tell her we're leaving in twenty minutes." Buffy handed her the phone from the nightstand. Accepting it, she punched in Anya's number.

While Willow made her call, Dawn and Buffy went downstairs. "Okay," Dawn said, opening her purse to count the contents of her wallet. "We need a plan, because I want to get to all the good stores before Willow starts to fatigue."

"Agreed." Buffy picked up a pen and pad of paper from the coffee table. "Hit me with your favorites."

* * *

In the end, Anya came with them, apparently she wrought great joy from telling others how awful they looked in certain clothes and shoes. Buffy chalked it up to vengeance demon mentality. Willow made it through two hours of shopping before pleading for the smoothie. Dawn and Buffy came home laden with sales purchases, their wallets considerably lighter, but their inner shopping goddesses much happier.

"No, Dawn, I did not say you could borrow the boots. Why would I buy shoe wear just to have you ruin it?" Buffy rolled her eyes, dropping her bags in the living room.

"Willow, didn't you hear Buffy say I could borrow them?" She threw her bags alongside her sister's.

"The boots are not very attractive anyway," Anya said, flouncing down on the sofa.

Before Buffy could argue on behalf of the attractiveness of her boots there was a distant crash followed by an angry cry. The four of women turned to each other, trying to suss out where the din was coming from.

"The basement," Dawn whispered, pointing.

Buffy waved for the other three to stay where they were. But then they heard Xander shouting, "You freeloading vampire! I swear, I'm going to –"

"Watch out, Spike!" Andrew screamed.

"You bloody wanker!" Spike shouted.

Then the girls rushed down the stairs, knees smacking into each other. "Xander don't!" Buffy shouted, already throwing herself across the basement.

In her haste, Buffy didn't fully assess the scene in front of her until her hip whacked off the side of the folding table and she landed in a rather disheveled heap in Spike's lap.

Swiping the hair from her face, he gave Buffy a crooked smile. "Why, hello there, Precious. Didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Wh-what's going on?" Buffy asked, brow puckered as she looked behind her. Andrew, Xander, and Spike were seated around a round folding table. Poker chips scattered over the surface along with a deck of cards.

"But – but we heard shouting," Willow said in confusion as she and the others came forward.

"Ahn," Xander stood up from the table. "I need to borrow some money."

Anya folded her arms over her chest. "I do not like to be parted from my money, Xander. You know this. And I don't like gambling. It is a foolish way to lose the money."

"Yes, but, I need to buy back in to win my money from –"

"He lost the hand to me, Red. That's what the shouting was about. Andrew's been out for three hands now, piss poor poker player that one," Spike explained.

"What is this?" Dawn asked, marveling at the set up. Smoke was heavy in the air which could only be attributed to Buffy's boyfriend, beer cans were scattered around the table along with cans of orange soda - those were clearly Andrew's.

"You guys had a girls' day so – so we had a boys' day," Andrew said with barely contained excitement at being included with the other guys.

Buffy's eyes widened. "Right. Of course." Then, looking at the cards, she leaned close to Spike, whispering, "You didn't cheat, did you?"

"Me?" he asked, his face a mask of injured pride.

She blinked blandly. "Definitely you."

A wicked grin replaced the innocence. "You gonna rat me out, Slayer?"

"Tell Xander he doesn't owe you for the hand he lost or I will."

"Bloody hell woman, I made good money, I'm not going to –"

"Spike."

He sighed. "You can pay me next time, Harris."

"Yes, next time, Xander, and then you won't need my money," Anya eagerly concurred.

Xander skipped onto a new topic, obviously not disappointed about not owing Spike. He shuffled the cards back together. "How was the shopping?"

"Ah! Let me show you my clothes," Dawn said, grabbing his hand and excitedly dragging him up the stairs. Willow and Anya went after them.

"Chain Andrew down here, will you?" Buffy asked Spike, climbing out of his lap. "I need to check his room again. Xander's missing his Star Trek VHSs."

"Hey! I want to see Dawn's clothes too!" Andrew protested.

The couple steadfastly ignored him. "Sure, Love." Spike hooked his hand around Buffy's wrist, pulling her down for a quick kiss.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling. "Chop chop, Casanova."

Upstairs, Dawn was whipping out shirt after shirt, demonstrating them for Xander who was doing his best to look interested while Anya grew more annoyed by the clothing article. Picking up her sister's bag, Buffy handed all of their purchases to her. "Dawny, why don't you take our stuff upstairs? You could call Davie and tell him all about-"

She didn't need to finish her sentence, Dawn was already jetting up the stairs, shouting goodbyes to Xander and Anya over her shoulder.

Spike made a sound of disgust behind Buffy. "Shopping?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Please. I bought you clothes too, no need to cry." He tried not to smile, but Buffy saw the warm glow in his eyes. "Even a new coat."

* * *

The day would have been perfect had it ended there, but things are never that simple when you're a slayer. One moment Buffy and her friends were preparing their goodbyes, the next, glass shards were flying everywhere as creatures catapulted into the house.

Anya screamed, throwing herself to the ground, Xander dropping protectively over her. Buffy didn't see what happened to Willow as Spike grabbed his girlfriend and swung her behind him to protect her. But Buffy didn't care about herself or her friends at that moment, she was running for the stairs even as Spike started to fight the creatures which appeared to be men.

One of the men slashed a knife at Buffy as she leapt for the stairs, cutting a fine line through her shirt and into her skin. Buffy ignored the sting of pain as she rushed onward. Dawn was screaming and the only thing Buffy could think was to save her sister.

The man followed Buffy up, but having seen him for that brief moment, she knew he wasn't a man, he was a Bringer, one of the mutilated monks who worshipped the First. "Dawn!" Buffy screamed as she threw a kick in the direction of the Bringer sending him tumbling down the staircase.

"Buffy!" Dawn cried; she was cowering at the top of the stairs, Buffy pushed her back and into the bathroom, pulling the door closed on her.

"Lock the door! Find a weapon and don't come out unless I tell you to, unless I tell you what I said at the top of the crane!" Buffy added the last part for fear of the First showing up and impersonating her, because if she was listing off dead people, Buffy had died more than once.

Knowing that Dawn was as safe as she could make her, Buffy ran back down the stairs. Spike was sparring off with one of the Bringers and bleeding heavily. Even without their vision, the monks were deadly accurate in their assaults.

Anya and Xander were against the far wall, fending off a Bringer with an ax from the weapons' chest. Willow was flat on the floor, blood running down from her temple. Before Buffy could get to Willow, two of the Bringers cornered her. Buffy grabbed the first thing she could, which happened to be a chair. She swung it at the Bringers who lithely jumped away. Throwing it at them, Buffy slid across the floor and to the weapon's chest.

Pulling out an ax, she charged back at them, using a spin to decapitate the first monk while the other slashed open her shoulder. Cleaving the ax back around, Buffy slammed it into the second Bringer's chest and he fell dead to the floor. She whirled around, ready to help her friends, but they didn't need help. The Bringers that Xander and Spike had been fighting were vaulting back out the broken window.

"The basement," Spike panted, pointing with one hand.

Buffy rushed over to the open door. Clattering down the stairs, ax ready to decapitate any linger Bringers, she stopped still. The chains were empty. They had taken Andrew.


	22. Chapter 22

**A.N.** Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!

* * *

"But – but why would they need Andrew?" Willow asked, holding a wet wash cloth to her forehead. She had revived a little while after the destruction and Buffy had stationed her on the bed. The Scoobies were huddled upstairs in Buffy's bedroom since the entire first floor had been obliterated with broken glass by the Bringers.

"I can't fix those windows until tomorrow. I'm going to need a lot of glass and probably the help of a few of my crew members," Xander said, his thoughts rather scattered since the attack. He and Anya were hanging back together, close enough that they should have been touching, but they weren't.

Buffy shook her head, arms protectively wrapped over Dawn's shoulders. "I don't know. It has to have to something to do with Andrew's encounter with the First. Why would it have needed Jonathon as a sacrifice? Why didn't I ask him about this before?" Her frustrations were boiling over, centering on what she hadn't done and where she had gone wrong.

"It's not your fault, Buffy," Willow said. "We couldn't have known something more was going on with Andrew."

"But isn't that why we kidnapped him?" Buffy argued. "We knew something was up so we wanted to keep an eye on him. And what do I do instead? Treat him like a non-person and let him get stolen by psychotic monks who work for the source of all evil."

"Buffy," Dawn said, covering her sister's hand with hers. "It'll be okay. We can figure this out."

"Your sister's right, Love," Spike said from the corner of the bedroom where he was smoking a cigarette. Had it been under any other circumstances, Buffy would have berated him for the blatant breech of her bedroom policy against smoking. "As someone who has been kidnapped by big evil before, I think you're biggest concern is what Andrew knows about us. Which isn't much since we don't know anything, or at least we didn't tell the wanker anything worth knowing."

Willow nodded then groaned at the action, her head falling back on the pillow. "Spike's right. We didn't tell Andrew about –" she cut a look to Dawn.

"What?" Dawn asked, her voice unnaturally high. "What is it?"

"We think we know a way to combat the First," Buffy said, feeling bad that she hadn't taken the time to explain this to Dawn earlier.

"That's a good thing right? So why is everyone looking at me so strange?" She drew away from Buffy, moving closer to Willow on the bed.

"We need to bind the First, make it corporeal. We have a theory that since the First is energy, it can be made corporeal, made human," Buffy spoke as matter of factly as she could, watching the comprehension dawning on her sister's face.

"Like me. You're going to make the First human like me." Her voice was devoid of emotion.

"It's not like you, Dawny, you were bright happy energy," Willow said as cheerfully as she could.

Dawn's brow furrowed and Buffy knew she had made yet another mistake. There had to be a better way to tell her. But, like usual, Buffy hadn't known how and now it was all –

"Do you really think that would work? I mean, we're not a coven of good monks, we're just mediocre evil fighters with a slayer and a vampire."

"What?" Buffy asked, caught off guard by her response.

"The monks did the creepy chant thing with me, but we aren't monks and the First isn't bright happy energy, so would the spell still work?" she asked, looking around at the adults eagerly.

"We're still researching the details," Buffy said slowly.

"Well, I guess we need to start looking faster, because if they've got Andrew, it would seem whatever the First's plans are, they are moving right along." Dawn said.

"Are we going to save Andrew?" Anya asked.

Buffy's friends looked to her. "Yes. We can't leave him to whatever fate the First has in store, besides saving him might set the First back a step or two, and that's what we need. Enough time to figure out how to bind it."

* * *

"I think we should all stay together until . . . until we know if anyone else is going to be kidnapped," Buffy said as the tete-a-tete broke apart.

"You mean, stay here, with you?" Anya didn't look thrilled by the prospect.

"Just until we know what's going on," Buffy added hastily. "I don't want one of you to go missing and me not knowing until I show up at your broken into house."

"I think Buffy is right," Willow seconded. "It will be easier for us to coordinate this way. We can all go about our normal days tomorrow, but at night, we can get to work finding Andrew."

Xander eyed Spike. "Don't you think the two of us have lived together enough?"

"Buffy's basement not good enough for you?" Spike taunted.

"Down, boy," Buffy shushed, swatting Spike's arm with more force than necessary. He responded with a smirk. "Dawn and I can room together so you and Anya can have one of our rooms, or Anya can share with Willow. Or one of you can take Andrew's room, but he's been sleeping on air mattress, so it's up to you."

"Xander can share with me." Willow looked hopefully at her best friend. "You can wake me up at half hour intervals to make sure I haven't gone into a coma from my concussion."

With a look to Anya, he nodded. "Sounds like a plan, bed buddy. I'll keep you awake and you can tell me all about those constellation things you've got on your ceiling."

"Does that mean I get to keep my room?" Dawn asked.

"Anya still needs a place to stay. You can share my bed, Dawny, and Anya, you can take Dawn's bed."

"There isn't any more Magic Box jewelry in your room, right, Dawn? Because stealing is something you know is wrong now –"

Buffy stopped the lecture before Dawn could refuse to give over her room. "Dawn's room is jewelry free. There is no stealing in this household." Eyes shifted to Spike.

He shrugged. "I've been too near the brink of death of late to have time to steal." Buffy gave him a pointed look. "Er, right, stealing is wrong. So . . . I don't steal and neither should you, Niblet."

"Okay, everyone good?"

With grumbling and head nodding her friends conveyed their level of goodness with the situation.

* * *

Dawn was already under the covers when Buffy came into the room. She had spent the last half hour helping Xander nail up planks of wood over the gapingly broken windows. "I'm going to see Spike then I'll be up for bed, okay?" Buffy said.

She rolled over to look at her sister, eyebrows waggling. "Smoochie, smoochie."

Buffy made a face. "Please, we are adults, we have a lot of adultish things to talk about."

"Mhm." She rolled back. "Adult smoochie things."

Choosing to ignore this comment, Buffy left the room and made her way downstairs. In the basement, Spike was sitting on his cot, leaning against the wall as he smoked a cigarette. He looked up at her arrival, flicking the cigarette to the ground.

Buffy approached him shyly, sitting down gingerly beside him. "Sorry you got booted back to the basement."

He looked around. "Pretty decent digs."

"It'll just be until we figure things out better."

"What you worried about, Love?" He curious blue eyes met hers.

"I just – don't think you should be down here. I mean, it's a basement."

"And I'm dead. Doesn't much matter to me."

Buffy's hand inched over his. "Yes, you're dead. But you're my dead boyfriend and I kinda like it better when my boyfriends don't live in basements, even the dead ones. Basements are of the ick."

He raised their hands to his mouth, kissing the back of her palm. "I'll survive, but thanks for the concern, Pet."

"No problem." She rested her head on his shoulder. "What do you think the odds are of finding Andrew?"

"You're asking me? This is your show, Buffy. You know better than the rest of us what this Hellmouth is like."

She sighed. "Except this time I don't. This time I'm really worried. Glory was bad, but she only wanted Dawn, that was something I could solve and save the world at the same time. I don't know what the First wants, and that worries me. How can I protect something when I have no idea what it is I'm supposed to be protecting?"

"I'll talk to the beasties and find out where the mystical energy is flowing these days. We should be able to find the First's lair from that, then we'll rescue Andrew." Spike scooted to the end of the cot then pulled Buffy down so that her head was in his lap. His fingers worked their way through her hair, soothing her frazzled nerves.

"It never stops," she said quietly. "Year after year, month after month, day after day I keep fighting, and nothing changes. I save the world only for it to be back in peril before all my injuries are even healed. Sometimes – sometimes I wonder if it's worth it."

Spike's hand stilled, then shifted down the length of her hair once more. "I lived in a world without you for one hundred and forty-seven days. I got to see firsthand just what a world without you would look like. It wasn't pretty, Buffy. Every day you keep these ignorant wankers alive, that's all you. It might be a thankless job, Pet, but trust me when I say it's worth it."

Buffy's cheeks burned at the compliment. Hands down, it was the nicest thing anyone had said to her in years. The fact that it was coming from her former enemy now soulful vampire boyfriend made it mean so much more.

"Thank you," she whispered.

A moment of silence passed over them, Spike continued to soothe her with the steady rhythm of his hand through her hair and she drew delicate patterns on his black denim with her fingertips. She found herself almost drifting off to sleep when he spoke again.

"Buffy. I – I want to give you something." The stutter in his words was everything she needed to know that Spike was uncomfortable.

Sitting upright, Buffy waited. "Like a new nickname or . . ."

He dug his hand into his jeans pocket, coming out with a clenched fist. "You don't have to –" he stopped, shaking his head. "This is stupid. I know that –"

Taking his face in her hands, Buffy made Spike look at her. "What's stupid, Baby?" she asked with a furrowed brow. "What don't have I to?"

He exhaled slowly. Taking her right hand, Spike pressed a hard metal object into her palm. Even though he had been holding it, it was still cool to the touch. Buffy looked down; in the middle of her palm was a large ring. Lifting it up, she examined it closely. The unpolished gold ring had a rectangular garnet stone setting with the letters W.P. inscribed in cursive.

Buffy squinted, feeling she was missing something.

"It was mine . . . before I was Spike, when I was William Pratt," Spike explained.

"You kept it?" she asked in wonder. Buffy had always assumed everything William Pratt died the day Spike was sired.

"Yeah, well, a bloke's got to remember the family name and all."

"I've never seen this before, you know, when you wore rings." It came out sounding rather weird.

"Kept it in my crypt. I went back for it when I was out with Anya." He was watching her with apprehension.

"And you want me to have it?"

He nodded. "We've got a big fight coming, we both know that, and I want you to – I want you to have something of mine."

Buffy heard the 'in case' even though he didn't say the words. "Nothing is going to happen to you."

"If you don't want it," he said brusquely. Spike killed off the sentimental mood as quickly as possible.

Buffy rolled her eyes, jamming the ring over her middle finger. It was a little loose, but not enough that it would fall off. "Thank you, you obnoxious dead vampire." She smacked a kiss against his cheek.

Spike grinned like a school boy. "You don't have to –"

She kissed him on the mouth this time. "I will wear it."

Wrapping Buffy in his arms, he hungrily kissed her. Buffy had entirely planned on returning to her bedroom, but the longer Spike kissed her, the longer she was in his arms, she knew there was no way she could leave him, even if that meant spending the night in the basement.

She smiled into the kiss, her fingers running against his hair, curling the gel stiffened locks. Spike sighed, settling her more firmly in his lap so he could rock the tight bulge of his erection against her moist center. Buffy tingled at the motion.

"Maybe I should have said, randy vampire – oh! Wait!"

Spike stopped his lusty ministrations to gaze at his girlfriend. She fixed him with a devilish grin. "Randy Giles," she said each name slowly, relishing the look of horror that crossed Spike's features momentarily.

"I hugged that pillock," he growled in annoyance.

Buffy broke down giggling. "I know! You called him dad!"

"Oi!" Spike nipped with blunt teeth at her neck. "Let's not forget about you, _Joan_."

"It's a nice name!" She slapped his chest.

"Right," he snorted. "Even worse than Buffy if you ask me."

"Buffy does have classic elegance!" she nearly shouted.

It was Spike's turn to laugh, a loud careless sound that sent shivers of desire chasing along her spine. Sensing the turn back to their earlier activities, Spike crushed Buffy to him in a kiss so intense that it had her toes curling.

He pressed her down against the cot, his legs on either side of her own. "Love you, Buffy," he said, pulling his lips from hers.

"Love you too, Spike." Then Buffy arched her neck and reconnected their lips. Her hands found their way up the back of his t-shirt, dragging her fingernails across the cool flesh.

Spike bit her bottom lip then moving to bite at her neck as he ground his erection against her. Buffy sighed happily, wriggling against him before she worked his shirt over his head. "You seriously have the most amazing biceps," she said, kissing the muscle in question. Her hands ran down his stomach. "And your abs? Oh god. I could spend all day just licking them."

Spike groaned. "You're going to set me off talking like that."

She smiled. "Not yet, lover, I've got fun plans for tonight. They involve lots of me and you and not a lot of clothes."

He chuckled, fingers playing at the hem of her shirt. "Then I guess we should get a move on."

Lifting her arms over her head, Buffy allowed Spike to remove her shirt. He fell upon her, tongue running over the swell of her breasts, still confined by her black lacy bra. Buffy ran her fingers up the nape of his neck, pressing him closer. "Spike," she moaned, eyes snapping shut.

Spike growled, she felt the rigid bones in his face against her skin moments before she felt his teeth run against the fabric of her bra. There was a quick snap and suddenly her bra was split in two. She propped herself up on her elbows to look incredulously at the scene.

"Did you seriously just bite off my bra?"

Spike's yellow eyes lifted to hers. "Not the only thing I plan on biting." Then he grabbed her hips and yanked her into a sitting position. His nimble fingers barely glanced over the button and zipper before he was tugging her jeans off.

Buffy launched herself forward, grabbing onto his belt and unhooking it with less gentleness than normal. Spike bent forward, covering her neck with hot messy kisses, licking along her shoulder while she worked his zipper. Once it was down, he hastily kicked out of his jeans.

"Whoa!" Buffy pushed him off to look down. "Like you're too good for boxers?" But a smile was playing at the corner of her mouth.

"Only started wearing them since I got my soul back, something to do with sodding self-awareness. Thought you'd appreciate the lack of undergarments though." He sucked his cheeks in, giving her his sex face.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, starting tomorrow, you're back in boxers. You can't go around saving the world from an apocalypse without underwear on. That's just like . . . totally not mixy – or something!"

He lunged at her, grabbing her and trapping her in a tight embrace. "Enough talking." Then he crushed his mouth to hers.

They fell back against the bed, Buffy arching her back to rub her hips against his and Spike used his knee to separate her thighs. In one quick movement he was inside her, they both groaned at the desired contact.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Spike worked biting kisses across her chest, coming to suck at her right breast. Buffy sighed, her hands running down his sides to clutch at his hips and force him to move harder and faster into her.

She loved the way their bodies slammed together, both of them able to handle the power of the other. Spike growled at the increased friction, his head snapping up to capture Buffy's lips in a rough kiss. She mewled into his mouth, her body burning up in the familiar dance of arousal.

"Spike!" she gasped, her spine arching back to press her body more firmly against his.

He snaked one hand down between their bodies, his index finger coming to press perfectly against the core of her desire. She cried out as he began to rub fast circles over her sex.

Spike was panting into the curve of her neck, the height of her desire pushing his onward. "Buffy," he groaned, his incisors aching to puncture her smooth flesh.

"Yes, Spike," she gasped again, tilting her neck slightly to give him better access.

Working his finger faster, matching it to the harsh strides of his hips into hers, Spike sank his fangs into her skin. The combination of pleasure pushed Buffy over the edge, her mind going up in flames of delicious agony. Spike's hips began to buck uncontrollably as his mouth pulled at the blood slipping from her neck.

"Oh god, oh Spike, so good," Buffy chanted.

The sound of his name from her lips set off his climax. Spike groaned, his mouth stilling against her neck. "Fuck, Buffy. So perfect."

The small portion of her mind that was still able to function logically had to agree with his statement. The world might be falling down around them, but this, between them, was perfect.

When they finally fell asleep, Buffy was tucked beneath Spike's arm, his grip on her protective and loving. Her long hair tickled his nose, forcing him to burrow his face between her shoulder blades, not that Spike was complaining, it gave him perfect access to breathe in lungfuls of her heavenly scent.


	23. Chapter 23

**A.N. **I'm messing with the timeline of Angel because it's more fun for me =] Thanks for reading, hope you are enjoying the story!

* * *

If not for Dawn shouting down the stairs, Buffy would have missed work entirely. As it was, she didn't have time for a shower. Dislodging herself from Spike's grip also proved quite the feat. In his sleep, he clutched her like a drowning man. Using her excessive strength, Buffy finally wrenched his arm away.

Rolling her eyes, she smacked a kiss against the angle of his cheek bone. "Love you, William Pratt."

A sleepy smile curved his lips. "Love you too, Buffy Summers."

Throwing the meager blanket back over her boyfriend, Buffy cast one last look of longing in his direction and hurried up the stairs. She completed her morning rituals as quickly as possible, skipping breakfast.

She and Dawn arrived at school just as the two minute warning bell was sounding. Dawn didn't even have a snarky remark for her sister after the chaos of the night before. Buffy used her day in office to call the rest of the Scoobies and give them after school assignments as it were.

Anya was to team up with Spike again that night, as much as Buffy hated the idea, and scope out the demon aspect. Willow was hitting the books in between classes, looking into the whole binding aspect of the plan, and Xander was stuck with chow duty, bringing back food for everyone to eat after he was done with making the downstairs of her house resemble the downstairs of a house once more.

As for Buffy herself, she called Angel.

"Wolfram and Hart Los Angeles Division, this is Harmony, how can I direct your call?" The voice was bubble gum pink as it came across the phone lines.

Buffy stared at her office phone in horror. "Harmony?"

"Oh my gosh! Buffy? Is that you?"

She swallowed her disbelief. "Uh, yeah, it is."

"How totally strange is this! I so never thought I'd see you again – well, not that I am seeing you, I mean we're talking and I definitely can't see you, though I can totally picture what you look like –"

"Harmony, is Angel there?" Buffy cut off the less than scintillating mental process of the ditzy vampire.

"He's in a meeting. Do you want him to call you back?"

She bit her lip. "Yes, but could you maybe ask him to take the call now?"

"I guess so . . ." Harmony said hesitantly. "He doesn't really like it when I interrupt him though. Grouchy vampire that he is –oh! Speaking of grouchy vampires, have you heard from Spike lately? Because if you have, I totally want you to tell him how successful and popular I am now! I've had like a bunch of dates since coming out here! Just so he knows I never think of him any more –"

"You know what, Angel can just call me later. I'll be sure to mention you to Spike if I see him." Buffy hastily hung up.

She shook her head, staring at the phone. Harmony working for Angel? Angel working for a corporation? Life on the Hellmouth suddenly seemed way normal compared to life in L.A..

Her gaze strayed to the gold ring on the middle finger for her right hand. Buffy twisted it around, loving the feel of the worn band. It felt soft the way that Spike's t-shirts, the way he wore things until they were thread bare. She liked the weight of the ring too, it was heavier than most of her other jewelry, constantly reminding her that it was there, and it was so like Spike to be annoyingly persistent even in jewelry form.

Smiling, Buffy picked up the phone again and dialed her house number.

It took five rings for Spike to pick up. " . . . sodding stupid thing –"

"Spike?" Buffy asked, forehead crinkling.

"Buffy?"

"Uh, who are you talking to?"

He coughed. "Er, right. No one."

"So the sodding stupid thing is . . .?"

He blew out a breath. "The phone. Couldn't find the buggering thing could I? Just heard it making a bloody racket. Anyway, what do you need, Love?"

Buffy couldn't stop the laugh that burbled up at his confession. "Because those phones can be tricky little guys, what with the whole cordless concept, they can be hiding anywhere."

"Ha. Ha. Did you have a reason for calling, Slayer, or just wanted to interrupt me in the middle of watching _Passions_?"

"You still watch that?" Buffy was laughing harder now. "God that is so –"

"You're a second away from being hung up on, Slayer. I'd come to my senses right quick if I were you," he threatened darkly.

Sobering as much as she could, Buffy fought to keep a straight face. "Right, sorry. I have been given a message to deliver to you."

"What are you talking about? Gone barmy on me?" Spike asked in confusion.

"Actually, I called Angel but ended up getting his receptionist, an old girlfriend of yours. You might remember her. Blonde, undead, loves Paris and shopping?"

There was a horrified intake of breath on the other line. "Bloody hell!"

"Aw, Blondie Bear, not missing Harmony are you? Because she wants you to know that she is . . . wait let me make sure I'm getting this right." Buffy ran back over the conversation in her head. "That she is successful and popular and never thinks of you anymore."

Spike snorted. "Isn't that lovely?"

"I thought so," Buffy said cheerily.

"Thanks for that, Slayer." Buffy could practically see his eyes rolling. Then he said, "Did you end up getting a hold of Peaches?"

"No, he was in a meeting. He's supposed to call me back later. I'm going to update him on the First since I never exactly got around to telling him we solved Jenny's riddle," Buffy confessed a little guiltily.

"Not sure what it matters to him. Not like we need him coming down to good ole Sunnyhell to help us sort things out." Spike didn't bother to sound casual, using his usual hostile tones instead.

"Agreed. Still, I asked for his help so he at least deserves an update. Anyway, I really just called because I couldn't wait until I got home to give you Harmony's message, Blondie Bear."

Spike growled dangerously. "Don't call me that."

"Or what will you do to me, Blondieee Bearrr?" Buffy drew out the nickname in sickeningly sweet tones.

"I'll get you right and proper, Buffy." With another growl he hung up.

Buffy smiled to herself, rather thrilled by the prospect of Spike letting her have it. However, her good humor quickly faded as she focused on the task at hand. Booting up the desktop computer the school provided for her, she flexed her fingers preparing to search out any newly abandoned buildings, random caves, or other weird places that evil might be using as a lair.

She had to find Andrew. He was her responsibility. If she hadn't kidnapped him, he might have not gotten abducted by the First. Furthermore, as strange as it seemed, he was an innocent and he needed her help.

* * *

The Scoobies were grouped around the Summers' dining room table, two large deep dish pizzas in the center, half demolished. "What do I owe you for the windows?" Buffy asked Xander.

"Got it covered, consider it your early Christmas gift," he said around a large mouthful of food.

Buffy gave him an extremely grateful smile. "Thanks, you're the absolute best."

"Don't I know it," he swallowed.

Spike draped a possessive arm around the back of Buffy's chair. "Find anything useful, Red?"

Willow looked up from the stacks of books that surrounded her barely touched slice of pizza. "A few ideas, but I'm not really sure what is going to work. I can't find the exact spell that was used for Dawny and all the rest is for less powerful forms of energy." She ran a frazzled hand through her orange hair.

"I can totally help with the research," Dawn volunteered. "You never know, maybe my bright energy will stumble across the perfect spell." She grabbed three of the books, dragging them in front of her.

"And you, Precious? Any lairs come to mind?" Spike cocked his head toward his girlfriend.

Buffy heaved her shoulders up and down. "I think it's going to be up to you and Anya tonight. I couldn't find anything out of the ordinary which has me a little worried. I mean, something this evil with so many creeptastic minions has to have a bit of space to stretch out in. How can we not know where it is?"

"Right then, ready, Anya?" Spike stood up.

Anya looked over at him. She sighed. "Yes, I suppose so. But really, this trolling around does not make me happy. It reminds me very much of being a lackey and I am not a lackey, I'm a vengeance demon."

Buffy just barely kept from rolling her eyes. "Thanks for your help, Anya."

"Well your gratitude does help matters," she said grudgingly as she pushed away from the table.

"Be back later, Love." Spike pressed a kissed to Buffy's temple and swept out after the vengeance demon.

"Okay, Will, hand a book to Xander and I and we will get to work," Buffy said pushing away her empty plate.

* * *

Xander and Anya were spending the night again. It felt a lot like tightening the ranks because that's what it was. Buffy was sincerely afraid of any harm befalling her friends. After less than fruitful researching, the four more or less original Scoobies headed up to bed. Willow had tried to be optimistic, insisting they had a lead or two on the whole magical aspect of matters, but Buffy wasn't all that convinced. It also worried her that it was almost daylight but Anya and Spike hadn't returned.

She lay in bed next to Dawn, listening over her sister's snoring for the front door to open. The second she heard the hinges creak, Buffy was out of bed, racing on bare feet down to the entry hallway. She skidded to a halt inches from an exhausted looking Anya.

"Buffy." Anya nodded to her.

"Dawn's room is still open for you," Buffy said.

Without further ado, Anya headed up the stairs. Buffy looked back at the doorway where Spike was casually leaning. "Waiting up for me, Precious?"

Buffy didn't even bother to roll her eyes. "Did you find anything?"

"Yep," he said, pushing off from the wall and closing the door behind him. "Tell you all about in the morning, Pet." He took her hand in his and led the way toward the basement, hesitating a moment to see if she would be coming down with him or returning to her more comfortable bed options. As he waited, his thumb rubbed over the surface of his ring on her finger.

Buffy leaned her weight against him. "Is it lame if I say I missed you?"

His face lit up with a smile. "Won't tell anyone, it'll be our secret, Love."

"Come on," she tugged on his hand, taking a step toward the basement. "I've got something to show you."

They clattered down the stairs together and Spike saw a brown shopping bag on the middle of his cot. He turned curious eyes to Buffy who just smiled, nudging him toward it. Spike reluctantly released her hand to dig through the contents of the bag.

One by one he pulled out three new t-shirts, none of which were black. One was dark red, another navy blue, and the final one was grey. He smiled, she had made sure not to stray too far from his normal color palette.

Next he pulled out two pairs of jeans, one pair was black, but with a lower waist than his older pairs, the other pair was an acid wash color. Buffy didn't know what compelled her to buy the second pair, but something about it had shouted Spike to her so she bought it on a whim. But the way that he was looking at it suggested that she had chosen something he would consider wearing.

Buffy had inched up behind him so now she was peering over his shoulder, both arms enclosed around his waist. He looked back at her, and she nodded encouragingly. She was most nervous about the final purchase.

Spike lifted the coat from the bag, holding it up to see it clearly. It was a leather motorcycle jacket. It didn't reach beyond his waist, and it was hopelessly new looking. She knew it was nothing like his other jacket, but again, something about it had seemed Spike like. There were two reasons for her purchase, first Buffy had bought it as a sort of an appeasement, and second because she knew he missed having a jacket.

"Do you like it?" she whispered, her warm breath tickling his cheek.

Dropping the coat on to the cot, he turned around in her embrace so that he could see her and hold her as well. "Yeah, Pet, I do."

Buffy smiled a little. "I'm glad. Dawn and I went through an alarming amount of stores in search for something to replace the duster."

Spike tutted. "Can't replace the duster. Too many memories."

She inched closer to rest her head against his chest. "Well, now you can be all free to make new ones with this coat."

He laughed lightly. "Thanks ever so."

"Of course." She yawned.

Spike drew her down on the cot with him, using one hand to sweep all the new clothes back into the bag and onto the ground. "I've had the same clothes for about two decades, Love, you didn't need to spend your money on me."

"Uhm, hello, that's exactly why I needed to spend my money on you. I can't have my boyfriend wearing twenty-year-old clothes every day. Besides, your wardrobe could use a little color, not that I don't like the black, because I do, it looks really sexy on you. But it's a girlfriend's prerogative to buy her boyfriend new clothes, and I like being your girlfriend." She curled against his chest, smiling happily.

Spike held her tightly against him, his chin propped on the crown of her head. "The things you do to me, Buffy. There aren't words . . ."

"You don't need them, I already know. They're the same things you do to me." She kissed his clothed chest. "I love you."

"Love you more, Buffy, love you more."


	24. Chapter 24

**A.N. **Thanks so much to everyone for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting! It makes it so much more fun to update when you know there are people who are enjoying your story! =]]

* * *

Sleep would have been a welcome relief, but the life of the Slayer is anything but relaxing. The moment Buffy drifted off into unconsciousness, she was more awake than she had been in the drowsy moments when Spike had been running his fingers up and down her arm, pressing butterfly kisses to her hair, and otherwise seducing her to sleep.

Buffy blinked, looking around her. "Okay," she said to the empty room, her hands moving to her hips in annoyance. "Slayer dream, got it. What's up, slayer pow-"

Her heart squeezed so painfully in her chest that she thought it might collapse within itself. "Hey, Precious," there was shyness underlining the words even though the man in front of her looked to be very much aboard the confidence train.

"Spike?" it came out as a gasp.

The vampire grinned, running his tongue along his top teeth. It was Spike, it had to be, no one else in the world had cheek bones like that, or eyes that could see right through her that way. But he wasn't her Spike.

This Spike had really sexy spikey hair, acid wash jeans that very much reminded her of the ones she had just bought him, and a leather jacket that eerily resembled the one she knew was at the foot of the cot. The boots were the same though, if not a little less scuffed, and apparently Spike had not been kidding about the eyeliner.

"Wow," she whispered, knowing her eyes must be as wide as possible.

Spike's hands were jammed down in the pockets of his jeans. He took a step toward her, cocking his head to the side in a manner that was entirely him and made her skin flush. Because she loved him. From Doc Martens to bleached roots, she loved absolutely everything about the man before and she knew, even if Spike somehow lost his soul, he would always still be Spike and she would love him, because once you started to love Spike, you just couldn't stop.

"Got something to show you, Pet."

"Yeah?" Buffy asked. Her voice sounded strange to her ears and Spike apparently thought so too because he laughed.

He stretched out one arm towards her, she looked at the blonde hairs that ran up his pale skin. "I love that about you," she said in something that sounded akin to awe. "Even though you're supposed to be all dark hair having, even your body is too stubborn to go along with nature."

Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth. "Come on, Slayer. Much as I would love to get it on with you here, I really do have something you need to see."

She accepted his outstretched hand, loved the way their fingers tangled instinctively, loved the way he pulled her to him. The fingers of her right hand reached up to trace over his heart through his shirt, bumping over the silver safety pins adhered to the soft cotton in the process.

He looked down at her. "You're really not supposed to be this distracted by me."

"Yeah, well, it's you," she replied distantly.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "All yours, Precious, can do this sexy marveling over me thing when you're awake and I can really appreciate, yeah? 'Cause, it's pretty much wasted on dream me."

He guided them to the front of the room where a door had materialized. Buffy reached for the handle just as Spike leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Remember, Buffy, nothing can hurt you here. Just you and me."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. She twisted the knob.

"Ahn! Anya!" Xander was running through the smoke. Everything was so dark that Buffy couldn't make out where they were only that there was a lot of rubble and a lot of smoke and Xander was really really scared.

Spike squeezed her hand in a reassuring manner, but it did nothing to help. Buffy dragged them forward, intent on helping Xander search for Anya, but she tripped over something. Spike held tight, not allowing her to fall. When Buffy looked down, she cried out, falling to her knees and dragging Spike with her.

"Anya! Anya!" Buffy released Spike's hand to shake her friend's shoulders. But it was too late, it didn't matter. Blood was dried to the corner of Anya's mouth, her neck was broken. "Anya!" Buffy screamed.

Then she was torn sideways, flying through the smoke and rubble, still on her knees, watching as one of the Bringer's cleaved an axe at Giles who was desperately trying to defend Dawn from a man in priest's clothes. "Giles!" Buffy jolted forward only to watch the axe stick solidly in Giles chest.

Tears were pouring down her cheeks. "Spike!" She turned to her companion, desperation and despair filling her green eyes. "Please, please let me help them. I can help them."

He watched her sadly, one thumb brushing the tears from her cheek. "Not here, Buffy. Remember, just you and me. But you need to see, because he won't be in any of your books. He's not old, he's new."

Buffy threw her gaze back to the priest. Watched in horror as he grabbed Dawn by the throat and with the simple flexing of his hand broke her neck, dropping her lifeless body to the rubble below.

"No!" Buffy screamed, tearing herself from the dream.

She would have tumbled from the cot had Spike's arms not seized around her waist and held her flush against him. "It was a dream, Buffy. A dream. You're okay. I'm here with you. Just you and me."

Buffy scrambled from his restrictive embrace, falling to the ground, the hard contact of the cement against her knees reassuring her that she was in fact awake and not still in the dream. Her eyes were wild and Spike was watching her warily.

"Dawn!"

Buffy took off, running up two flights of stairs, throwing open her bedroom door, and pouncing on her sister without a care that she was disturbing what was probably for Dawn a peaceful sleep. Dawn woke with a start, finding Buffy hugging her so tightly it hurt. Buffy's tears soaked through her sister's hair as she held onto her for dear life.

"I can't lose you, Dawn," Buffy whispered brokenly. "I can't lose you."

"I – I'm right here, Buffy," Dawn whispered back. "I love you, I'm here."

"I love you too, Dawny. So much." Buffy squeezed tighter. Dawn gave a small gasp of pain, but Buffy wasn't capable of letting go just yet. It was the steel grip on her forearms that forced her to release just a little of the pressure.

Spike's scent overwhelmed Buffy's senses as he settled himself around the two Summers women. His chest against Buffy's back, his arms around both her and her sister. "If you don't want to lose her, Slayer, you might not want to crush her to death either," he teased gently.

Buffy exhaled a watery laugh. "Right. Sorry, Dawny." She pulled back a little, letting herself relax against her boyfriend.

Dawn gave a small smile then set her eyes on Spike. "Is, uh, everything okay?"

Buffy felt Spike nodded behind her, his chin brushing against the side of her head. "Everything's tickety-boo, Niblet. Big Sis just had a bit of a nightmare, scared her right proper."

"Was it a Sla-"

The way that Dawn cut off abruptly, Buffy knew that Spike was giving her signals. Her thoughts were confirmed when Spike picked up the conversational ball. "Now why don't we all go back to sleep? Got a big day tomorrow, I'm sure." He pulled Buffy off Dawn, then settled her back against the bed.

Dawn scooted over to give her sister room, her eyes wide with worry. Buffy reached out, brushing the brown hair from her sister's face.

Realizing that traumatizing her sister with her own fears was not really the best big sister thing she could do, she decided to work on soothing her sister instead. "Don't worry, Dawny. I'm sorry I scared you . . . I'm just a little over tired."

Slowly, Dawn closed her eyes. When her breathing evened out, Buffy rolled over to see where Spike had gotten to.

He was lying next to the bed, having made Mr. Gordo into an impromptu pillow. Buffy stared down at him and he stared silently back. "Right here, Precious. Now go to sleep."

She dropped one hand down towards him. He kissed each of her fingertips. She traced the curve of his face. He kissed her palm. She ran her fingers through his sleep mused curls. He covered her hand with his.

"Love you." So quiet only she could hear it.

"Love you more." So quiet only he could hear it.

* * *

"I need to call Giles." Buffy and Spike were sitting on the couch facing each other. She had drifted off to sleep for a couple hours, but when she had awoken the second time to find Spike still watching over her, she hadn't wanted to fall asleep again. They left Dawn sleeping sprawled out in the bed, Mr. Gordo keeping her company.

Spike had Buffy's hand clasped between his, his thumb rubbing over his ring on her finger in a possessive manner that was entirely comforting. "Want to tell me about the dream first, Pet?"

Buffy shrugged, ignoring the hurt that flashed in his blue eyes at the gesture. "Figured you could hear me tell Giles and that way I don't have to say it twice. Kind of tired of the Chatty Kathy routine. Maybe we should just record me saying this stuff from now on."

Spike smiled realizing she wasn't giving him the brush off. "Whatever you want, Love." He kissed her knuckles. She scooted closer to him so that their knees were touching.

"Besides, I also sort of need to tell him about the whole us thing. The part where you have a soul and I have a soul and we look really good together."

His smile widened. "Right. You call the Watcher, I'll heat up some blood and make you breakfast."

Buffy gave him a severely skeptical look. "You can make breakfast?"

His expression mellowed out. "Pour cereal into bowl. Douse bowl in milk. Add spoon. Yeah, sounds bloody complicated." Leaning forward he captured her lips in a sweet kiss, one that conveyed to Buffy just how worried he was about her dream the night before. Then he was standing up and striding into the kitchen.

Nervously, Buffy picked up the phone and dialed the English phone number.

"Buffy?" Giles sounded worried and she hadn't even said anything worrisome yet, not even hello.

"Hey, Giles."

"Is everything quite alright?"

"Ever think I might call just to check up on you?"

There was a telling silence.

"Yeah, okay maybe not. We've got lots of things going on here in Sunnydale, so I'm going to break the worst of it to you first." She paused knowing two pairs of male ears were listening acutely. "I love Spike."

There was the clanking sound of two sets of mugs hitting the ground, one very close to Buffy and the other a continent away. She smiled, rather pleased by her revelation.

"Oh dear Lord. Has Willow cast another spell?" Giles recovered with annoyance and more pronounced worry.

"No. But Spike did get himself a soul."

A beat of silence. "A shaman in Africa?"

Buffy was surprised. "Yes, how did you know?"

"We've heard rumors of a demon asking for his soul. Obviously we thought it was just that, a rumor. But of course, if there was a demon stubborn enough and stupid enough to fight for his soul, it would be Spike."

"Hey!" Buffy said a little indignantly. "He's my stubborn stupid demon."

Spike's arm was suddenly around her shoulders, his nose nuzzling against her neck as his tongue licked over his bite mark. She tried to move away from his distracting presence, but he shadowed her every movement.

Giles sighed, there was the sound of eyeglass polishing. "Yes, of course he is. Because if there was a Slayer stubborn enough and stupid enough to love such a demon, it would be my slayer."

"Oi!" Spike said angrily. He took the phone from Buffy's grasp. "That is my stubborn stupid slayer you're talking about, you pillock."

"Spike," Buffy sighed, yanking the phone back. "Honestly, Giles, you're taking this way better than I was expecting."

"Yes, well, the tea stain and shattered porcelain on my carpet might like to disagree, but I realized a while back that it was time to start letting you make your own decisions and if I have done anything as your watcher, I have watched you become a strong woman which means I need to respect the decisions you make."

"Wow," Buffy said feeling very misty eyed. "You make me feel all not adultish when you speak all super adult like that."

There was a hint of laughter from the other end. "I would expect nonetheless from you, Buffy. Now, what is the other news you have for me, and will your berk of a boyfriend be listening in?"

Spike gave a snort of disgust. "Watch it, Watcher," he growled.

Buffy rolled her eyes, settling back against Spike on the couch. "Yes he will and we've kind of got this situation going on, with the First and Bringers and then I had this really scary Slayer dream last night and you – you were in it." Her throat seize up, stinging with tears.

Spike was back to nuzzling her neck, trying to get her to calm down, ghosting his lips over her soft skin, and rubbing his cheek against her silky hair. Giles waited patiently for his Slayer to continue.

"You were trying to protect Dawn from this guy who might have been a priest, but one of the Bringers killed you and then the priest killed Dawn – and Anya was dead but I don't know what killed her. But Spike told me it was the priest that I needed to be worried about, that he was not old, he was new." Buffy closed her eyes, trying to block out the images from the dream.

Behind her, Spike stopped kissing her neck. "I never said that," he said confused.

"How does Spike know who this priest is?" Giles asked equally confused.

"Oh, right," Buffy snapped her eyes open again. "Not Spike-Spike, Dream Spike, er Punk Spike."

"Punk Spike?" Both males asked.

Buffy curved her neck to look at her boyfriend. "Yep, eyeliner and all."

Spike's dark eyebrows rose in surprise. "Sounds like I was a little out of place, Pet."

"Well, you weren't in the dream –" Buffy shook her head. "I mean you were, but you and I were on the outside looking in, you took me to see the stuff – ugh – does that make sense, Giles?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes, it does. You chose Spike as your guide, that's all. But about this priest-?"

"I'm not sure if he was a priest, he was just dressed as one, but he looked a lot younger and way more violent than any priest I've ever seen, not that I've seen that many, even though we have tons of churches in Sunnydale . . ." Buffy explained.

"Right." She could picture her old watcher pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Andrew," Spike mumbled, nudging Buffy with his chin.

"Oh, thanks." She found his hand and squeezed it affectionately. "And we were harboring Andrew because he was being super creepy and killed his friend Jonathon for the First and then two nights ago the Bringers broke the hell out of my house to kidnap him. So we are trying to find him, and we've got this idea about b-"

"I'll be on the next flight. You can tell me everything then in person. In the meantime, keep up with your efforts to find Andrew. I'll ask the Council if they have any information on a priest. It was good of you to call, Buffy. I will see you soon."

"Okay, thanks, Giles." Buffy hung up, leaning back into Spike's cold comfort. "So that went pretty well, don't you think?"

Spike gave another snort. "Yeah, bet old Rupes is getting on that plane because of the First and not because he wants to shove a nice piece of sharp wood through my chest."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You are so full of yourself."

She could feel his grin. "Rather be full of you." He nipped at her neck with blunt teeth.

Twisting around so that her chest pressed against his, Buffy nibbled at his bottom lip. "I think I'd rather you be full of me too." She tilted her neck to one side.

Spike didn't need a second invitation. Sweeping the hair from her neck line, he fixed his lips over his bite mark, kissing it once, then licking it for good measure before he sank his teeth into her flesh. Buffy gave a small gasp, then she was swimming through his memories. Or were they hers?

She watched as her interlude with Punk Spike blurred through her mind and his, then Spike jolted back from her with a jealous growl. "You were hitting on him," he accused, still in feral form, his lips blood red.

Buffy hiked up a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Uhm, hello, I was hitting on you?"

"Yeah, but that wasn't really me," he argued.

Buffy stared at him as if he was insane, the blood and fangs not really dissuading her from the impression. "Because we should totally get into this when you were having sex with a robot that looked like me."

He at least had the good manners to look shamefaced. "Right. About that –"

"Ew, can we please never go there?"

Spike dropped his gaze back to her neck, lapping at the blood still oozing from his bite. "That where you got the inspiration for your shopping spree on my behalf?"

Buffy shook her head. "That was totally on a whim, but at least now I know how good the clothes will look on you."

Spike smiled, finished drinking and kissed her on the mouth. "Come on, I have a bowl of dangerously complicated cereal to prepare for you."


	25. Chapter 25

Later that day, Buffy found the time to call Angel again and this time managed to get through to him. He answered with a bark of hello that took Buffy completely by surprise.

"Uh, Angel, is everything okay?"

"Buffy?" he asked in equal surprise. "Sorry, I didn't know it was you."

"So you usually yell at the people who call you?" She rested back against her bed.

Dawn and Spike were in the family room watching _Passions_. It was one of the most adorable sights Buffy had ever seen and she was eager to get back to seeing her big tough vampire boyfriend excitedly explaining the most ridiculous plot lines ever invented to her teenage sister.

"Well," Angel coughed, "it's my corporate voice."

Buffy laughed. "Oh, right, well that explains it."

There was a moment of silence, then Angel said, "Sorry I haven't called back, I just didn't remember –"

"No big," Buffy interrupted him. "We solved it. Jenny was talking about the First."

This time the moment of silence spanned on uncomfortably. Buffy couldn't imagine what Angel was thinking; yes, the First had toyed with him something awful, but it really didn't seem like the kind of thing that would still be bothering her ex-boyfriend.

"So is it trying to get Spike to kill you?" he finally asked tensely.

"Oh!" Buffy's eyes shot wide. "No, wow, no. I mean we kind of don't have a clue what it wants, but so far it hasn't had anything to do with Spike. Actually, it kidnapped our kidnape and we're trying to get him back. I just thought you'd want to know what was going on." She was rambling and she knew it.

"I can be in Sunnydale tomorrow," he said gravely.

"What? Angel, no, you don't need to do that. We've got things as perfectly not under control as you can imagine. Giles is flying in, Willow is researching a spell, Spike and Anya are tapping into the demon leads, and I'm preparing to kick some non-corporeal ass. So you see? Totally controlled."

His laugh was hollow. "I guess you don't need me then."

"Nah. You stay in L.A. handle all the corporate evil that is running around. Sounds pretty frightening." Buffy picked Mr. Gordo up with her right hand and cuddle him into her chest, burying her face in the plush pink pig.

"Are you happy with Spike, Buffy?"

She knew it took a lot out of him to ask the question.

"Yes." Her mind ran rapidly over all her memories with Angel then stalled, they didn't compare one eighth to what she felt when Spike fixed her with his steel blue gaze, head tilted to one side. "I love him."

Angel was silent then he sighed. "That's all I wanted for you, Buffy. I just wanted you to be happy."

"I want you to be happy too, Angel. You and me? That was over years ago, even if we didn't want to admit it. We're like those boats, or were they yachts?" Her nose scrunched up. "You know the ones that pass each other at night?"

Angel laughed sincerely this time. "Two ships passing in the night."

"Yeah! Totally! If things had been different all those years ago? Who knows? But the ships have passed and it's night and . . . does this make Spike another ship or is he a dock?"

"I don't think Spike would be in this analogy." She could almost see him shaking his head. "But I understand what you're saying, Buffy. I'm never going to stop loving you, but I really am happy for you, even if it's with Spike."

She smiled. "Thanks, Angel. I'll always love you too, just not the way I love Spike. So you should go find yourself a ship or a dock or maybe it's an anchor?"

He was laughing again. "I'll do that."

"Good." Buffy put Mr. Gordo back on the mattress. "I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah. I'm always here for you, Buffy. Even if we're not meant to be, you'll always be in my heart."

"As long as our physical hearts aren't warming each other . . . because that really was pretty gross when taken literally." They both paused to think it over.

"Yeah. I don't really know what I was going for there. I guess too much time spent reading poetry," he said finally.

"Hey! Did you know Spike wrote poetry?" Buffy couldn't help but ask.

"I did. You should ask him about it, some of it wasn't that bad actually."

"You like Barry Manilow," Buffy pointed out incredulously.

"The man's a musical genius!" Angel argued.

Buffy laughed. "Okay, whatever, I've got to get back downstairs. I think I heard Dawn just make a rude comment about _Passions_ and that is so not going to go over well with my boyfriend. Take care, Angel."

"You too, Buffy. And call if you need help. I'd leave L.A. in a second to help you, don't forget that."

And with that, Buffy hung up on the first love of her life, all of the closure she had waited years for, finally closed. Angel was just a memory now, a happy and sometimes painful memory, but he was in the past where he belonged.

* * *

It was after dinner when the Scoobies convened for a meeting. They were ecstatic about the news that Giles would be joining them, especially Buffy who had missed her father figure acutely. But when Buffy caught them up to speed on her dream, making sure to leave out all the deaths and just mention the priest and Dream Spike's cryptic remark about him being new not old, Willow looked ready to faint.

"Red?" Spike asked, picking up on the direction that his girlfriend's concern was aimed in. "You alright?"

She sank down onto one of the kitchen stools, her hands grasping at the ends of her vibrant hair. "Too much research," she ground out.

Xander was immediately behind his best friend, trying to massage the tension out of her shoulders. "Don't worry, Will. You and Dawn focus on binding spells and the rest of us can do creepy priest research."

There was immediate compliance from all others concerned. "'Sides," Spike chipped in, "Anya and I had our own little research party last night. Seems that-"

"The First has taken over an abandoned vineyard on the edge Sunnydale," Anya interrupted triumphantly.

Spike tried to mask his annoyance at being usurped in presenting the good news, but Buffy could see right through it. She giggled at his response, it was super unlike Spike to care about being helpful for the group. She pressed her face into his shoulder, one hand wrapped around his back where her fingers, skimmed the band of his black jeans.

"That's great!" Dawn exclaimed. "So when do we rescue Andrew?"

"Spike and I will scope out the vineyard tonight, make sure it's our place, then we can go about with the rescuing," Buffy corrected.

The others looked to their friend and leader, their expressions mixed with fear and confidence. It was no one's first apocalypse, but they never stopped seeming, well, apocalyptic.

"Xander's plan is good," she continued. "Willow and Dawn will keep up with the binding research, the rest of us will look into . . . priest research? Thank god it's Saturday."

Anya looked unconvinced. "Yes, because I would like to be doing research when I should be getting money from customers."

"Think about it this way, Ahn," Xander said, "if there's an apocalypse, your money won't be important anymore."

She looked horrified by the very prospect. "Hurry up with the research!"

* * *

Spike and Buffy were on patrol, stalking silently through the darkened rows of headstones, scanning for any hands reaching through the dirt for a gasp of fresh air in their dead lungs. Buffy knew she was being strangely quiet, because really, she wasn't much for silence, but tonight she and Spike were set to check the vineyard and she couldn't stop picturing the gruesome scenes from her dreams.

Spike's cold hand clamped down on her shoulder, turning her around to face him. Buffy looked up at him with curious eyes. He was wearing his new jacket and it looked decidedly delicious on him. Of course, he had rolled around on the basement floor for twenty minutes before putting it on, insisting no self-respecting vampire would ever be seen in leather so obviously new. However, Buffy felt fairly certain it was more of a Spike thing to do than a vampire thing.

Now he cocked his head to the side, blue eyes sparkling sapphire. "Penny for your thoughts, Love."

She managed an offended scoff. "My thoughts are only worth a penny? Then yours must be worth a – a half penny or whatever."

He grinned. "Halfpence. But I'd give you all the money I have for your thoughts, if that's what you want to hear, Pet."

A small smile twitched her lips. "Sometimes you are just horrifically mushy. I honestly think it's worse than all the gore I deal with on a weekly basis."

"Right," Spike twined their fingers together, "'cause you seem to be running in the absolute opposite direction of my bloody mushiness."

Smiling full on now, she rested her head against the side of his arm. "Yep. This is me, running."

"So what's going on in the pretty little head of yours, Precious?"

Buffy was quiet for a moment, thinking things over, when all the words clicked into place she said, "I think Tara was the best of us."

"Glinda?" Spike asked surprised.

"Yeah. The rest of us; Xander, Anya, Willow, me, Giles, you, even Dawn, we're all . . . tainted?" She frowned, trying to work out the words she wanted to say.

"Tainted?" Spike was frowning as well. "Not sure I follow, Love."

Buffy sighed. "Maybe tainted isn't the word. We all have . . . badness, murky badness. Willow with the magic, Xander with the insane possessiveness of his friends, Anya with the whole thousand year old demon thing, Dawn with her kleptomania, Giles secretly being Ripper, me being borderline sadistic after my second resurrection, and obviously you with the bumpies. But Tara was free of all that, she was definitely of the goodness."

"Which is a bad thing?" Confusion colored his tone.

Buffy moved so she could face her boyfriend. "No. What I mean to say is that, Tara was the only one with all goodness and our world, this world of murky badness, killed her."

Spike's frown grew more pronounced. "If you mean to tell me you think you are responsible for the good witch's death then –"

Buffy pressed her free hand against his mouth. "Not at all, I don't blame anyone but Warren. That's not my point though. Clearly I suck at the whole meaningful conversations full of words."

Spike waited her out as Buffy once more tried to collect her thoughts into coherent words. He watched her with keen interest and it made her feel very swoonish that he was that interested in what she had to say, that it really mattered to him. She rested her head against his chest, breathing in tobacco, leather, and oak. His arms came around her, settling along her waist, his thumbs pushing up the fabric of her t-shirt to rub against her warm skin.

"Tara was the best of us, she was goodness personified, and our world of murky badness killed her. It makes me think that nothing pure, nothing wholly good can survive in the world that I live in. It's not the like the rest of the world. We see the dark, we see the demons, we face them. And in that world? How can true goodness every really survive?"

Spike was silent, taking in her words. She listened to the emptiness of his chest, her cheek rising and falling with his every empty breath. Was it strange that she liked this emptiness? Loved it? Loved that his heart wasn't always racing, that he could be completely still, her unbreakable wall of strength? If it was strange, then she was happy to not be normal.

"I don't think that's true," Spike finally said, his voice a low rumble. "Glinda was good, otherwise I wouldn't of named her after the good witch. But the rest of the Scooby crew? You're all just as disgustingly good. The murky badness? That's just what happens after so many sodding nearly avoided apocalypses. Of course some of the bad is going to stick, you lot wouldn't be human if it didn't. Your world didn't kill her, Warren did and that wanker was the closest to this other world you're talking about, the normal world. So, try not to think so much, Slayer, it's not good for your pretty little head."

Buffy smiled even as she rolled her eyes. "Glad you take my thoughts so seriously, Vampire."

"Hey! I do – Just, doesn't make sense to me when the sun is trying to tell me she is black as night. Not logical, Pet."

"See, again with the mushy." She poked his chest in accusation.

Spike's replying chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating through her frame. "Right then. You're a bleeding daft bint and I don't give a sod about what you have to say."

Buffy looked up at him as Spike peered down at her. "I knew William the Bloody was lurking there somewhere beneath all this chivalry, but thanks for listening."

He rolled his eyes, lifting her waist so that she moved onto her tiptoes and their lips could meet. It was a tender kiss, lips brushing, touching, tongues slipping past, rubbing, tangling. It was a kiss that belied all the jesting. Buffy loved the mushy and Spike knew it.

* * *

**A.N. **Random trivia: The reason I'm obsessed with Spike's clothing is that in an interview for I believe the fifth season of Buffy, James Marsters talked about how he was psyched that Spike had gotten a new pair of jeans and a t-shirt because up until that point he had two t-shirts and two pair of pants. So, I thought I owed the guy some more clothing. / The reason Spike rolls around in his jacket is because in the second season when Spike made his first appearance they ran over his iconic leather jacket with a truck to make it look well worn. But when he returned to the show for the episode Lover's Walk in the third season he found they had polished the jacket so he rolled around on the sound stage to make it dirty again.  
Yes, I am a total Buffy geek. I am embrace this, lol.


	26. Chapter 26

**A.N. **Thanks so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! / I'm glad some of you enjoyed the random trivia =]

* * *

They were perched at the edge of the trail leading to the vineyard. Lights illuminated the window frames of the small wooden structure, but Buffy couldn't see anyone inside. Beside her, Spike was tense, breathing in the surrounding scents and listening for every minute sound.

Buffy gave him a questioning look. His lips were pressed in a thin line. Motioning to her with one hand, Buffy followed her boyfriend away from the vineyard. Once they were a safe distance away, Spike shook his head.

"Not good, Love. Lots of nasties crawling around. One of 'em's louder, barking out orders. And – and . . ." he frowned, shaking his head again.

Buffy was unnerved. "And what?"

"And one of them sounded like . . ." he looked at her sheepishly, "sounded like you, Love."

Buffy's eyes widened to their limits. "Like me? What are you talking about?"

Spike exhaled sharply. "Well, you said this First bloke can be any dead person it wants, right? Don't know what you remember, but I remember crystal clear the five months during which you were very much dead."

Her jaw dropped open. "That – that _thing_ is walking around acting like me?" Outrage overtook any sense of fear she might have felt. "What is _with_ people thinking they can just be me? I mean, first," she held up one finger, "I've got Faith literally running around in my body. Second, you go and get yourself a creepy Buffy robot. And now this! I mean, is nothing sacred?" Her hands were fisted at her sides.

Spike was watching her with a look she couldn't quite decipher. On the one hand, he looked like he wanted to laugh, on the other, he looked exceptionally frustrated. "Right, well, Precious, as much as I'm on your side, because I am, I don't like the idea of an imitation Buffy as much as I once did," he ignored her pointed punch to his abs, "I think it'd be best if we focused on the blighter giving orders to the mutilated monks."

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. "Obviously I know that. It just – it gulps me that –"

"Galls," Spike instantly corrected, giving over to his desire to laugh.

"Right. It galls me that the First just thinks it can pretend to be me as if I wouldn't care. We are _so_ taking this thing down! We've got weapons, I say we storm the castle on our own." She had her fingers crossed that Spike wouldn't see through all the bravado to the real reason she wanted just the two of them to take on the First.

Of course, this was a decidedly stupid hope since Spike could see through her with his eyes closed. His mirth died off in an instant and his eyes were sharp on her. "This was a hide and seek mission, Buffy. There will be no storming of the barracks. You wanted to wait for the Watcher, remember?"

She met his gaze full on. "I didn't say I wanted to wait for him. He told me to wait for him and I hardly ever do what he says so –"

"No." Spike's tone brokered no arguments. "I know your dream scared you, Pet. Rightfully so. But there is no bloody way I am letting you go in there without reinforcements. As strong a team as the pair of us make, it's not gonna be enough."

Her gaze turned into a glare. "I don't take orders from you, Spike. I'm the head of this group."

"And I don't sodding care about that. I love you, Buffy. You really are a daft bint if you think I'm going to let you rush in and get yourself chopped up into very dead bits."

She made to shove past him, but Spike grabbed her around the waist and swung her over his shoulder very much like the metaphorical sack of potatoes. "Spike!" she whisper shouted in outrage. Her fists came down on his back in a rain of angry blows.

He ignored them, walking firmly away from the vineyard. Buffy rammed her knee against his chest. Spike buckled forward slightly, straightened out, and continued. She kept kicking and punching until finally knocking him to the ground. Still, he held on tight, not releasing her from the prison of his arms.

They wrestled on the ground, Spike always landing on top, pushing her down. Buffy's anger was consuming her every rational thought. "Stop it!" she shouted, pulling her arm back and punching Spike hard in the face.

At the impact she heard the decided crack of his nose breaking. With a gasp of horror, her struggle ceased instantly. She fell back from Spike who watched her impassively, blood dripping freely from his newly broken bones, waiting to see what her next move would be.

Not long ago, Buffy had thought the only way to resolve matters with Spike was to fight it out, bruise his flesh with hers. She would have rejoiced at his broken nose, knowing she had won the particular matter. Now, the only thing she felt was sick to her stomach, disgusted with her actions and consumed by guilt.

"Spike . . ." she whispered, afraid to touch him, suddenly terrified of what he must think of her. "Spike." The tears fell before she even realized she wanted to cry.

The hardness lifted from his blue gaze, his body releasing a tense breath. "Come here, Buffy." His tone was brutally gently, making her feel infinitely worse, the tears now streaming down her cheeks. When she didn't move, Spike lifted her in his arms and settled her against his chest.

"Spike, oh god, I'm so sorry! So sorry! I didn't mean to – I'm such a bitch," she babbled, encircled in his arms.

He didn't deny any of this, instead saying, "Doesn't matter, Precious. We're all good. Nothing you could ever do would get rid of me. And you've cracked my nose enough that I barely even feel it."

While Buffy was fairly certain he meant to comfort her, his words increased her guilt by tenfold until she was sobbing. Sobbing because she hated herself for treating him violently when he had been nothing but gentle with her since coming back. Sobbing because she was terrified for her friends and family. Sobbing because she was twenty-two but she would in all likelihood never make it to twenty-five.

Spike pressed kisses to the crown of her head, fingers feathering through the length of her blonde hair, he rocked them back and forth on the hard ground, shushing Buffy's cries until she slowly came back to herself. When her sobs were merely whimpers, he tilted her away from him so he could see her face. He used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away her tears, his blue gaze scrutinizing.

Buffy lifted a tentative hand to his face, he winced when her fingertips brushed the battered skin. Tears shimmered in her eyes. She had done this. "I hurt you."

He shrugged. "Happens, Pet."

"I don't want it to. I don't want to hurt you. I love you and you definitely don't hit the people you love." She drew in a watery breath.

Spike was watching her with something close to awe. "I don't care if you hit me, Precious, I'll always heal up."

Buffy shook her head violently. "No. That is not how this works. I love you, you love me, that means we take care of each other, protect each other. I am so sorry I hit you, Spike. So so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive," he breathed.

She cupped her hands around his face, leaning in close so that their faces were a hair's width apart. "Forgive me."

It was a command, Buffy figured it probably wasn't how one usually went about offering an apology and gaining forgiveness, but she needed Spike to forgive her, she needed to hear him say it.

He blinked slowly. When his eyes were open again, he said, "I forgive you, Buffy."

She exhaled all the guilt weld up inside her. Ducking her head beneath his chin, she rested it against his strong chest. "Thank you."

"Not even worth thinking about, Pet. Now let's get home so you can report back to the Scoobies." He disentangled from her and offered her his hand. Buffy accepted it readily.

"I love you, Spike."

"I know." He kissed her lips softly. "I love you too."

* * *

The Scoobies were waiting in the dining room for them, books scattered across the table, expressions tight and drawn. They took in Spike's broken nose and the blood on Buffy's shirt.

"Andrew?" Dawn asked.

Spike shoved a hand through his hair, roughing up the gelled down locks. "Didn't hear a peep."

Their was a collective intake of breath. If Andrew wasn't talking . . . Andrew was always talking . . . But Buffy knew she had to remain positive. They could handle this. They would rescue Andrew. That's what they did.

"We need to figure out a way to get inside. Which isn't going to be easy. They've got the First in there acting like it's Buffy impersonater night, the creep-o priest, and a dozen or so Bringers." Buffy looked at her friends for ideas.

"We need Giles," Anya said.

"And he's coming. He should be here tomorrow."

"Then I say we wait for G-Man. Let him help us sort this out," Xander nominated. The rest of the Scoobies nodded their agreement.

"We've got a start, binding spells, vineyard, creepy priests. I'm sure Giles can help us put the pieces together. That's what Watchers do right?" Dawn said. Another round of nodding.

"Alright. Let's get to bed then," Buffy sighed.

After washing up for bed, Buffy hugged Dawn goodnight and headed downstairs to be with her vampire. When she reached the basement, she found Spike sitting up frowning.

"Hey," Buffy called as she approached, her brows puckering at Spike's obvious unease. "What's up?"

His face jerked up to hers. "You here, Pet?"

It was such an odd question. Fear rippled across Buffy. She stood before Spike, taking his face in her hands. "Right here, Baby. What's going?"

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Nothing. Must have fallen asleep." But he didn't seem all too certain.

"Are you sure?"

"No – it's –" he shook his head again. "Let's just go to bed. That knock to the face must have taken more out of me than I thought."

Buffy winced at his casual reference to his broken nose. "I really am sorry about that."

"I know, Precious," he said, drawing her down on the cot beside them. When they were curled up against each other, he brought the blanket over their bodies. "And you can't imagine what knowing that means to me."

She curled up closer to his bare chest, pressing a kiss to it, moments before she fell asleep.

* * *

It was the growling that woke her. She had been fairly certain there was singing before the growling, but now all she heard was the growling. Her eyes flashed open, her body tense for the fight.

And then he was pinning her down. Even in the dark, his eyes blazed yellow. One hand at her throat, crushing her neck painfully. Buffy struggled against his hold, legs lashing upward. He responded by straddling her waist, pressing all of his weight down on her hips, his thighs encasing her legs so that she couldn't move.

Her eyes were starting to water from the lack of oxygen. Buffy tried gasping, but the more she tried the harder he squeezed. He lowered his face, bone structure rigid, fangs barred.

This had to be a dream. A nightmare. There was no way Spike was trying to kill her. That simply couldn't be true.

Black spots danced before her vision. This wasn't happening! It couldn't be.

And then there was the pain of fangs tearing into her flesh. Nothing about it was pleasurable. It was the white hot pain of skin being torn open, then the nauseating pull of blood leaving her body.

Summoning the last of the air in her lungs, Buffy cried out, "Spike!"

It was over in an instant. Spike staggering back from her, his eyes rapidly changing from yellow to blue. He tripped over the laundry basket, landing hard on the cement floor. He stayed there for a moment, staring at her.

Buffy pressed one hand to her neck, trying to stem the bleeding. Her hands shook from the trauma. Her heart raced wildly in her chest, desperately trying to recover from the attack.

The scent of blood reached Spike, sparking him into action. "Buffy!"

He rushed at her. She moved swiftly to her feet, black spots dancing in front of her vision again, she wobbled and he caught her, held her to him even as she struggled to be free. "Don't!" she begged.

"Buffy, you're bleeding," he told her with concern, gently lowering her onto the cot then jolting to the cabinet to get a band-aid.

She watched him warily. What was going on? Nothing made sense.

He was back in front of her, nudging her hand away to press the band-aid to the wound. It was on the opposite side of her neck as his bite scar. "What happened?" he asked, dropping to his knees in front of her so that he could see her clearly.

She stared at him disbelieving. "You bit me."

"What?" Shock coated his features. "I would never bite you like that, Buffy."

Anger flared along her bones. "Well, you did. You strangled me and then you bit me."

"Buffy . . . I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't." But he was looking scared, very scared, the way he had when he was living in the basement.

"Then how do you explain me being bit and being strangled and you being the one who was doing it?" Her tone was harsh, but there was nothing she could do to soften it.

"I – I – No! We were sleeping, then you threw me to floor," he pleaded with her desperately.

"No, Spike! You attacked me!"

"I wouldn't! I didn't!"

"You did!"

He grabbed her around the middle, burying his face against her stomach. "I didn't, Buffy. I swear I didn't. I would never hurt you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

The litany made her stomach turn. She grasped his shoulders, pushing him away from her. "Spike."

He looked up at her, tears coursing down his cheeks. She smoothed her palms against his cheeks, ignoring the way her hands couldn't stop trembling. "What do you remember? What happened earlier? You wouldn't tell me before, but I need you to now."

He blinked. "I- you – I don't know."

"Tell me," she pressed, hands on his shoulders now, squeezing slightly.

"I thought I – I thought I saw you. But you were – you were singing –" he broke off.

"And now?" she asked. "Now was someone singing?"

He stared up at her, not understanding. "No one's singing, Buffy."

"Before you woke up, was someone singing?" she asked again.

His face was blank. "I – I don't know."

Buffy reached behind her, grabbing the chains. Her heart clenched at the prospect of what she was going to do. "I'm sorry, Spike. But I need you to put the chains on." She held them out to him

"What? No! Buffy, I'm fine. It wasn't me! I swear."

"Who else is here, Spike?" The question came out harsher than she meant it to.

Despondently, Spike put on the chains. Buffy locked each one, then stepped back from him. He was staring abjectly at the floor.

Her heart was begging her to break down and cry. Because this couldn't be happening. She couldn't be losing the only person she could rely on fully. She couldn't. Because she honestly didn't know if she could function without him anymore.

Crouching before him, she tilted his chin up with two fingers. "We'll figure this out, Spike. But I need you to hold it together for me. Trust me."

He nodded.

Standing up, she went to wake the others. Tell them of their newest problem. Deal with the fall out. All without Spike at her side.


	27. Chapter 27

Buffy found herself in Spike's crypt. She was sitting atop the sarcophagus, her head in her hands, a throbbing pounding scrambling her thoughts. She didn't know how long she'd been there, only that she didn't plan on going back any time soon.

There was too much going on. She couldn't handle this. Not without Spike. And something was messing with him. Something she couldn't even fight. Something that knew she needed him.

The painful creak of the crypt door hinges broke through the silence. Buffy looked up to see Dawn walking in. "Hey," her sister called quietly.

"Hey." Buffy's response was despondent.

"I have Willow looking up magical cures. Remember how she went on that walk through your brain a couple years ago? When you went catatonic after I got captured by Glory?"

Buffy nodded. Dawn sat down beside her on the sarcophagus lid. "She thinks she can probably do something like that for Spike. Find out what the trigger is and how to un-trigger it."

"Does she think it will work?"

"I do."

Buffy looked at her sister. "Thanks, Dawn."

"Of course." Her sister leaned into her. "What are you doing out here?"

Buffy's shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"Spike's wigging, you know. He's completely freaked that you hate him."

This startled Buffy out of her circling thoughts. "Why would he think that?"

"Because you chained him up and then ran out on him? Seems like a pretty good theory to me."

"I don't hate him!"

"Then maybe you should tell him that."

Buffy went silent. "What if it's not him?"

"Then it's not him."

"This is like Angelus all over again," Buffy whispered, voicing her deepest fear.

"But it's not. Because Spike is in there. Angel wasn't. We just have to get Spike back in control," Dawn comforted.

"I can't kill Spike, Dawn. I can't. I won't."

"You won't have to. I promise. We will solve this."

Buffy turned to her sister and allowed Dawn to envelope her in a hug. When Dawn pulled back, she grabbed her sister's hand, dragging her off the sarcophagus. "Let's go. You've got a mopey vampire to cheer up."

* * *

Spike was sitting on the cot, his head in his hands, his shoulders hunched. Buffy crept quietly down the stairs, beating back all of the alarms that were sounding in her head at putting herself back in close contact with him. He wasn't a vampire, he was her vampire. He needed her and she needed to be there for him.

"Spike?" She stood across the basement from him.

His head jerked up and she could tell from the paleness of his skin that he'd been crying again. "You shouldn't be down here, Love." His voice was sandpaper gritty; his cerulean eyes fixed on the bruises covering her throat.

Buffy took a step closer. "Well, I'm here."

"Don't," he said, when she took another step.

"Why?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Buffy, but whatever's playin' with my head? I don't have control over what I do. Hell, I don't remember what I've done." His hands fisted over his jeans, both wrists encircled in heavy metal chains.

"I trust you."

"You shouldn't."

She took another step closer. "Willow's looking for a spell or something. We think the First is using the song to trigger whatever it is that happens to you."

"Song." He scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't even know what song it is. Just know I hear someone singing, then I'm gone."

"We'll figure it out. That's what we do, 'cause we're the good guys, remember?"

"You have to promise me," he said suddenly deadly serious, his voice low and deep. "You have to promise me, Buffy, that if you can't fix this, you'll stake me."

"What?" she asked aghast.

"You have to kill me. If something is playing with me, I don't want any part. I would rather be dead. I won't hurt you, Buffy."

She crossed the remaining distance, desperate to touch him, but he drew back from her. "Promise me, Buffy."

"I can't promise you that," she said just as seriously.

"You have to."

She shook her head. "I won't. I won't kill you, Spike. I need you."

"I'm going to kill people, Buffy!"

"No, you're not. I'm going to be here with you. We're going to figure this out."

"Don't be daft! I'm a demon! That's what I do, I kill people. I like it!"

Her hand smacked across his cheek, his head snapped to the side. "Stop it."

His eyes rolled over to her, but his head remained to the side. "Can't stop what I am, Pet."

"You are not a demon, Spike. You have a soul."

His expression was antagonistic. "The soul's not driving right now, in case you missed that."

"I didn't." Her hand went to her neck.

Spike grimaced. "Please, Buffy."

"I'm sorry, Spike." And she truly was. "I won't do that. I won't lose you and I certainly won't kill you. I love you."

His hands shot out, grabbing her shoulders. She had gotten too close. "Bloody stupid woman!" He held onto her like she was the only thing left in the world, his face buried against her stomach.

Buffy's hands crisscrossed over his back, cradling him to her. "I'm right here, Spike. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want to hurt you, Buffy. God I don't want that," he said, words muffled.

"I know," she soothed. "I know."

Slowly, she lowered them onto the bed, placing herself at the top so that Spike was stretched out on the length, his head in her lap. She ran her hands through his hair, whispering quietly all the while. Eventually he fell asleep. When Buffy was sure he wouldn't wake, she carefully removed herself from beneath him and headed wearily back up the stairs, praying that Willow had found something useful.

She found Willow asleep on top of an open book, her neck cricked at an awkward angle. Buffy set about making coffee for Willow to wake up to instead of just a sore neck. Then she poured two bowls of cereal. Taking them into the dining room, she woke her best friend.

Willow yawned, stretching and wincing as she turned her head slowly from side to side. Buffy handed over the coffee which Willow gratefully accepted. "Thanks."

"No problem." Buffy sat down across from her, crossing her legs on the chair. "Anything?"

Willow took a deep drink of the caffeine stimulant. "I found something that might help."

"Really?" She couldn't keep the eagerness from her words.

Willow smiled tiredly at her friend. "Really. It's a lot like a séance actually. We gather around Spike, light some candles, say the chant, and he should be taken to his mental plane where he can confront the trigger and de-activate it."

Buffy lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "How very Freudian."

Willow laughed. "Good thing we took Professor Walsh's psychology course then, right?"

Buffy laughed with her. "Yeah. Exactly." Relief washed over her, she reached across the table, squeezing Willow's hand. "Thank you so much for this."

Willow squeezed back. "Of course."

* * *

"What time is Giles supposed to arrive?" Buffy asked as she ate cereal with her best friend.

"He called while you were with Spike yesterday. He said he should be in around nine tomorrow morning."

"Do you think we should wait for him to do the Spike séance?"

Willow looked up from her bowl. "Honestly, no." Buffy waited for her to explain. "If we can solve this Spike thing on our own then we should. We have too many other problems we need Giles to help us with right now."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, we really really do."

"So what time do you want to hold the séance?"

"When can we be ready?"

"Well, it's Sunday and we need four people to form the circle-square around Spike. I need to pick up the candles at the Magic Box. I know that Xander has work today, but maybe you can get Anya to come over at her lunch break with the candles and we can perform it then."

"Sounds good," Buffy said, clearing their now empty bowls from the table. "I'll go let Spike know the plan."

Even as she opened the basement door, she heard the voice, so eerily similar to hers. "You're nothing to me, Spike. You are beneath me."

It sent shivers skittering down her spine. Buffy ran down the stairs, ready to throw punches that she knew wouldn't land. "Spike!" she shouted.

But he was already gone. His eyes yellow, straining at his chains, fangs gnashing.

Buffy's heart pinched horribly. "Spike, it's me! I'm right here, Spike."

He roared, tugging violently at the chains as he tried to get to her, his body lurching forwards then snapping back again as the chains restrained him.

"And he's right there too, Luv."

Her head whipped to the side. Leaning casually against the wall, but not really touching it as it wasn't corporeal, the First smirked at her with Spike's face.

"Leave him alone," the Slayer demanded.

Spike laughed hatefully. "But I'm having so much fun, Pet. This one's got loads of surprises just waitin' for you. Wouldn't want to miss out on that would you?"

Buffy edged past the real Spike who was still desperately trying to attack her, the chains cutting so tightly into his wrists that he was starting to bleed. "He isn't yours. He's mine."

"Think so?" Spike cocked his head to the side. "Didn't take too much to convince him you didn't care for him. Just a word or two. Not very good at love are you, Precious?"

Hearing her pet name come from the First's mouth was too much. Buffy launched herself at the specter knowing full well she couldn't touch it. As she expected, she barreled through Spike's mirage which shimmered before disappearing completely. She hit the wall with a dull thud that left her shoulder aching.

In the meantime, the real Spike twisted in his chains to come at her again. He was close now, within inches of her. Of course, that's what the First had wanted, to goad Buffy into attacking, putting her within reach of the monster wearing Spike's face.

"Spike!" Buffy screamed, whirling around at the rabid vampire. "Stop it! I know you're in there. Come on, wake up!"

No response, just more growling and lunging. Buffy decided to take a different approach. Avoiding the hands that were stretched out to snare her, she stood directly before her boyfriend. Staring into the endless depths of yellow, she met his blinkless gaze.

"Just you and me. No one else is here. Just you and me."

There was a moment where it didn't seem to have worked, where his words, albeit from her dream guide, were nothing but an echo. Then she saw a flicker of blue and yellow was melting away into the ocean she called home.

"Spike?" she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head, frowning. "Buffy?" He looked down at his wrist that were bleeding over the chains. Realization hit him and he was backing up from her, his face panicked. "Oh God, Buffy, Love, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," Buffy sighed with relief. "You didn't. Not for lack of trying. But the chains seem to be holding." She went to the sink, filling a bowl with water and grabbing a towel to clean his wounds. "Maybe we can put padding on the inside of them," she said more to herself than him.

Spike watched her hesitantly as she approached. "You don't have to do this, Love. You don't have to be with me when I'm like this, you shouldn't have to be."

One shoulder lifted in a shrug. "I don't care. It's you. I'll always want to be where you are."

"Whose mushy now?" he joked frailly.

A brittle smile quirked her lips as she sat down and motioned for him to do the same. Placing the bowl on the ground, she took Spike's wrists into her hands, assessing the damage. "Do you think I can take off the chains?"

Spike shook his head vehemently. "Too much of a risk."

"I don't see it here now, though."

"You don't need to. I can see it just fine. Standing over in the corner, wearing Dru's face."

Momentary fear gripped Buffy. She hated fighting things she couldn't see. "Just tell me if she starts singing."

"Will do," Spike said lowly.

Working with his wrists, she gently maneuvered them about to clean the wounds as best she could, then she wrapped gauze around both. "We think we have something," Buffy said as she carried the soiled water to the sink. "Is it still here?"

Spike shook his head, staring down at his injured wrists. "Nah, left."

"And you're still Spike?"

He lifted his arms from his sides. "Who else would I be?"

It wasn't necessarily the reassuring answer she was looking for. Buffy opened the fridge and pulled out two blood packets. Tossing them to Spike, she crossed to the stairs, resting her back against them. "We're going to try something tonight, see if it'll snap the First's hold on you."

He noted the distance between them. "Don't trust me, Luv?"

Buffy's head twitched at the word. Such a simple word. So similar to the one it should have been and yet vastly different. "No, I don't." She turned, heading for the stairs. "Leave the packets for him, will you? There's no point in wasting blood."

Without a backward glance at the demon pretending to be her boyfriend, she went up.


	28. Chapter 28

**A.N.** Thanks so much for the reviews! They are amazing to read =]

* * *

"But – but, Buffy, Spike needs to be Spike for the spell to work," Willow fretted. Buffy's hands were fisted over her chest, the clench of her jaw showing that she was displeased. They were in her living room, Anya's candles on the coffee table.

"I don't know what to do, Will."

"You said you talked him out of it before, can you do that again?" Dawn suggested.

Buffy shook her head. She had spent the past three hours trying to get through to Spike. All she had gotten for her effort was a nice punch to the stomach and another raking bite mark, this one across her forearm. Blood stained bandages were now wrapped around it.

"He's not in there, or if he is, he's not listening to what I have to say."

"Wait for Giles, he's been doing magic longer than Willow. He is more likely to have a plan that won't get us all killed than she is." Anya paused filing her nails to contribute.

"No," Buffy said too quickly. Giles had been so accepting of her relationship with Spike, if he arrived and Spike was nothing but a savage demon, she knew his approval would go right out the door and it would be nothing but warnings against him after that.

For all she knew, Giles might agree with Spike that staking was the quickest way to solve their problems. Buffy rubbed her temples vigorously. "There has got to be something we haven't thought of."

"How about punching?" Dawn asked.

"What?"

"Well, I don't know, I'm going out on a movie inspired limb here, but you know, they always act like slapping someone makes them regain their senses, so, how about we slap Spike?"

"I am not slapping him," Buffy said flatly.

"I will," Anya happily offered.

"Guys!" Willow interceded before things could get out of hand. "Either we wait for Giles or Buffy tries the slapping method. I'm sorry, but it honestly sounds like our best bet."

Buffy gave her best friend a look of betrayal that made Willow flush. However, Buffy was between a rock and . . . another rock . . . or something harder than a rock . . . or whatever the stupid saying was.

"Fine." She stormed downstairs without a backward glance.

The minute her feet hit the steps, Spike was in a growling frenzy, she could hear the chains clanking and straining. It didn't exactly give her the vote of confidence she had been hoping for.

"I'm sorry, Spike," she said to the basement walls.

Turning off the stairs, she strode quickly across the basement, arm out stretched, palm open. When she was within reach, she pulled back and slapped him. Hard.

The demon was unfazed. Rather, the slap seemed to have ramped up his blood lust.

Buffy wanted to cry. "Spike," she whispered desperately. "Please, please wake up for me."

He stilled, head cocking to the side, visage smoothing out. "B-Buffy?"

"Spike?"

"W-what's going on?"

"Tell me what you remember."

"We were talking. You were taking care of my wrists." He glanced down, they were bloodied again. "And – and then, nothing."

"What song does it sing?"

"What?" His brow crinkled up.

"The song, Spike. What song does the First sing?"

"Buffy, I don't know what you mean."

She turned her back, pacing the length of the basement. "This is getting old. You aren't Spike. I know that. Why do you keep thinking I'm dumb enough not to know?"

"Pet, what are you talking about? Gone off your onion?" There was gentle concern in his words.

"I know you're not him!" she yelled, whirling around.

He cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes filled with hurt. "Buffy, Luv –"

"Stop!" Now she was screaming, raving really, like a manic. Great. What would her friends think?

"You are not Spike! I hate you! I hate what you are. Give Spike back to me. Give him to me now!" She stormed up to him, getting within inches of his reach.

His eyes narrowed. "Then give me what I want."

"And what is that? Me, dead? Oh gee, no thanks."

He shrugged, sitting down on the cot and picking up a cigarette from his pack on the ground. "Guess we'll have to agree to both be disappointed then, Precious."

"Don't! Don't you dare talk like him! You are nothing but a shadow, you're not real."

He scoffed, lighting up the cigarette. "That right, Pet? You think I'm nothing?" Spike took a drag then blew the smoke at her. "That's where you're wrong. I'm very much Spike. I'm Spike without the soul, without the attachment to his poncy life. I'm the demon." He tapped the fingers that held the cigarette against his chest.

"He's not a ponce," Buffy defended, but her thoughts were very far away. This could work. This could be okay.

Spike caught the gleam of understanding in her eyes. "Whatever you're thinking, Luv, doesn't matter. I'm in control now. Your William is gone."

"Hold that thought." And Buffy was racing up the stairs.

* * *

"I'm not really sure, Buffy, I mean, I've never done this spell before and I don't know all the specifics –"

"Yeah, but Willow, he said it's him. He said he is Spike. And he is, he's just the demon. They still have the same memories and everything right? I mean that's what the demon does, Giles said so, it kicks the soul out, settles in the shell of the person with all their looks and their memories, and then it creates a new persona. So it is Spike, he's just Spike of the bad," Buffy rambled, excited. She was so sure this would work, it had to.

Dawn was looking uncertainly between the two women. "I don't know, Buffy. I mean, I don't think we should go messing with Spike's head if we don't know whose really in there. I don't think our Spike would appreciate it and it could be dangerous."

"Anya?" Buffy turned to the woman on the couch. She was eating a bag of chips, flipping through the television channels. "You're over a thousand, tell me what you think."

Anya didn't bother to look up. "Oh, you're definitely right, Buffy. That's Spike, just the most evil version you could ask for."

"See?" Buffy said triumphantly.

Dawn and Willow both still looked uncertain but with no other option to offer, Buffy knew they would cave. "Alright," Willow said finally. "If you're sure you don't want to wait for Giles."

"I don't. Let's go."

* * *

The demon half of Spike was watching the four women with vague interest, puffing on a cigarette as he leaned causally against the basement wall. "Seems a hell of a lot of trouble for one sodding git."

"And we're back to gagging you," Buffy grumbled. Standing up, she wiped her palms on her jeans to rid them of the mixture of herbs and earth that they had been spreading in a circle on the ground.

Going to the closet, she pulled out a rag with which to do the gagging. Spike smirked confidently at her. "Oh yes, please do, Luv. Can't wait to have your body pressed close to mine while you try to shove that in my mouth. No wonder Willy was all twisted up for you." His eyes traveled a lascivious trail from the tip of her head to the bottom of her toes.

Buffy didn't bother hiding her disgust as she crossed the room to him. Standing just out of his range she waited a moment until his attention of her was acute. Then, she slammed her fist into the side of his head, knocking him out. He clattered to the ground in a bleeding heap.

She sighed. "Sorry, Spike."

"He won't remember any of this," Anya commented as she blessed Willow with virgin olive oil. "So slap him around as much as you want."

Dawn shot a look to her sister and Buffy rolled her eyes. "Er, right, thanks, Anya." The other woman just shrugged.

"Okay, are we ready?" Willow asked.

"Yep," Dawn announced for the group. "We just need Spike in the special circle and we're good to go." She watched as her sister unlocked the unconscious vampire from his chains and hoisted him unceremoniously into her arms. "Geez, he's going to be so glad he doesn't remember this when I taunt him mercilessly about it."

Gently setting her boyfriend in the middle of the circle, Buffy accepted the extra set of chains that Anya handed her. She clasped them around his ankles and wrists. "Okay, let's get this done. I don't want him coming to when we are performing our witchiness."

The four women knelt down around the circle, each taking up a position of North, South, East, and West. Willow passed out four bags of more herbs and earth.

"So I'll speak some fancy Latin and then we blow the powder on him."

"He's going to wig about it getting in his hair," Dawn mumbled.

A smile flickered on Buffy's lips at the thought. "He'll deal."

"Ready?" Willow asked. Once everyone had nodded, Willow began her Latin incantation.

"It's not going to work."

The voice stopped them dead. Willow's face had drained of all color as she whipped her head to the side.

Standing beside the cot was Tara, her innocent features pulled down in a look of concern.

"That is not Tara," Buffy said sharply. She watched her best friend as she stared at her dead girlfriend in horrified fascination.

"Willow," Tara said quietly. "You promised me no more magic."

The pouch fell from Willow's trembling hands. "Baby?"

"Willow! That is not her!"

She forced herself to look away from the vision and to Buffy. "I-I know –"

"Willow, you know me, I'm trying to help you, Sweetie." Tara drew closer to the circle stealing back Willow's attention. "Spike tried to kill you, more than once. You don't trust him, you told me. The relationship between him and Buffy disgusts you."

Buffy's heartbeat erratically in her chest, her gaze dropped to Spike who was beginning to move in the circle. "Willow! I need you to focus. Tara's dead. I'm sorry. You know that. We all know that. And she isn't coming back. That isn't her. That's evil wearing her face. You know that."

"Tara?" Willow's voice quivered.

Dawn shot a look of panic at Buffy who felt utterly helpless to do anything. She couldn't chase the First away, she couldn't touch it, plain and simple. And now it was messing with her friends. It was sick and twisted, it was, of course, evil.

"Buffy's right, Willow," Anya said in uncharacteristically subdued tones. "Whatever that is, it isn't Tara."

"Tara loved you, Willow. She wouldn't come to you like this," Dawn added.

Willow swallowed, shook her head, and exhaled slowly. Without taking her eyes of Tara, she resumed the Latin chant. In an instant Tara was replaced by Glory, stalking towards Dawn.

"And you! You bitch, you should have died, not your sister! You know that, don't you?" Dawn couldn't help staring at the woman who had ruined her life. Her blue eyes wide with terror. Buffy watched, paralyzed, hoping the spell would finish soon.

"You think about it every day," Glory smiled viciously. "How if you had died Buffy wouldn't have tortured herself this last year, how Spike would never have tried to –"

"Now!" Willow shouted.

The four women emptied the pouches into their hands, lifted them to their lips, and blew. A wind whipped through the basement causing the First's form to shimmer then disappear in a blink of bright light. The mixture swept around Spike, covering him completely.

His blue eyes shot open as his body went rigid. Then he screamed, long and loud, a sound so filled with tortured pain that the four were forced to cover their ears. Buffy was desperate to get to him to cross the line separating them. She needed to protect him, to help him –

"Don't move!" Willow commanded seeing Buffy inch forward.

Buffy steeled herself and just as suddenly as it had begun the wind stopped and all was silent. She watched Spike anxiously, his eyes had fallen shut and now his body was twitching.

"How long?" she asked Willow.

"I don't know," Willow said apologetically.

Buffy reached out and locked her hand around her sister's. Dawn's teary eyes met hers in surprise. "Dying for you is one of the things I would never change, Dawny. I love you, you are my sister, and I will always do what I need to to protect you. Please don't regret that."

She bobbed her head as the tears slid down her cheeks. "I love you too."

With one problem resolved, Buffy turned to Willow. "I am so sorry, Willow. I am so sorry that you had to see that."

Willow was still two shades too pale, her fingers trembling, and her eyes glassy. "It wasn't her."

"Exactly," Anya said. It was a rare show of camaraderie between the two. Buffy knew they had never exactly gotten on, ex-boyfriend trolls came to mind. "It wasn't real. Tara is in heaven, where she belongs."

"I know that," Willow said sternly, more to herself than to the others. "That was nothing."

"That was evil," Anya corrected.

On the floor before them Spike moaned. They redirected their attention to him. His hands were balled in fists as he twitched on the ground, his eyelids fluttering as if in a vivid dream.

"What's happening?" Dawn whispered.

"He should become aware of the trigger and if Spike is there, non-pure-demony Spike, then he can fix it – or deactivate it," Willow explained sounding fatigued.

"If it works," Anya sighed.

"It will," Buffy said with certainty.

But as the minutes ticked by, that certainty started to fade. "How do we know if he's alright?" she asked as Spike gave another groan of pain.

"We won't know anything until it's –" Willow didn't get to finish.

Spike's eyes snapped open as his demon came out to play. He lunged upward with a fierce growl toward Buffy who was already scrambling backward. "Dawn, you guys! Get out of here!"

The other three females clattered toward the stairs as Spike, chains and all, came for Buffy. She pulled her hand back, preparing to knock his lights out for a second time. She spared a moment to worry about turning his brain to mush with too much head trauma, but Spike leapt toward her, fangs barred.

Buffy tripped on the spare chains, crashing backwards onto the cement floor. Spike followed her down, his body landing squarely on top of her, effectively pinning her. She saw the yellow of his eyes, felt her heart race, then his fangs sliced into her throat.

Buffy didn't even have time to scream. It was simply over.

And then it wasn't. He was drinking from her, he wasn't sucking her dry. And there was the familiar pleasure behind the action, the brushing of their minds against one another. Buffy found herself watching the strangest scene. Newly sired William coming home to his sick mother, the mother he would do anything for; she saw him offer to save her; she saw the fallout of what his version of saving meant; she saw him put right what he had meant to fix.

"Buffy?" His blue eyes swam before her face.

"Spike?"

He gave her a tired smile. "Hello, Cutie."


	29. Chapter 29

**A.N.** Hi, yes it has been a really really long time, but I'm living in China teaching English and sometimes living here just gets totally in the way of other things. So! Much delayed and with my sincere apologies along with my sincere gratitude to all of those of you who have followed and favorited and commented and read, here is the latest chapter.

* * *

"You're sure he's fine and won't be eating us in our sleep, because I really would rather not have my thousand year life ended by a vampire that lived in Xander's basement. That is hardly a way to go," Anya commented as she took a bite of her pizza.

The gang was sitting around the living room table taking part in their patchwork family dinner. Dawn sat at the head of the table with her knees pressed to her chest as she split her time between taking unattractively large bites of pizza and making stabbing attempts at her algebra homework.

Buffy cringed at the thought of the homework being turned in with such numerous pizza sauce stains, but at least it would get turned it, which was more than she could say for most of her high school career.

"What was wrong with my basement?" Xander complained, snatching Anya's soda. "You guys are always ragging on it."  
"It was awful," Anya said plainly.

"I kind of liked it, it had a nice grunge atmosphere." Willow patted Xander's arm reassuringly.

"Okay . . . living arrangements aside," Buffy said, snatching her sister's homework away before a particularly large glob of sauce could spill on it, "Spike seems fine. I'm going to keep an eye on him for the rest of the night. He doesn't want to be around you guys until he's sure that he's the one in control again."

"Hm. He must really be adapting to the soul." Anya grabbed another slice and Dawn grabbed her worksheet. The original three looked over at Anya with questioning looks. "Well, I mean, before he would have gladly used any excuse to kill us, which I can reasonably understand. You guys weren't exactly nice to him. In fact, you treated him like crap. That boy was just crying out for some vengeance."

A mutual unease stole over them; Dawn glanced up at her sister to gauge her reaction to this brutal honesty.

"He was a demon." Xander felt obligated to point out. "One who tried to kill us. Excuse my lack of cuddly feelings toward him."

"This is so in the past," Dawn jumped in, seeing the flicker of pain cross her sister's face. "He's all not evil now, well, except when being played by the First, and he and Buffy are cuddly enough to spare the rest of us. So! More happy thoughts and pizza."

"Happy thoughts," Willow agreed, pouring herself and Dawn more pop. "Like Giles will be here in the morning."

"Right," Buffy nodded, reaching out for the container of spicy buffalo wings. "Giles will come and be all Giles-y and in no time we'll be rescuing Andrew so he can go back to annoying us all."

Anya cracked open the cap of her pop. "Unless he's dead."

"Ahn!" Xander squeezed her knee forcefully.

"That is _not _a happy thought," Dawn accused with narrowed eyes.

"Maybe not for you," Anya shrugged.

Buffy tugged at her pony tail feeling her nerves begin to frazzle. "Okay! I'm going down to see Spike. If you need me, knock. Don't come down unless you need to." She stopped behind Dawn's chair to give her a sister a one armed hug, then left the group to devour the remaining pizza.

* * *

Spike was sitting on the cot, staring down at his hands, an empty blood bag at his feet. He was chained back to the wall, thick manacles around his wrists and ankles.

"Hey," Buffy called quietly from her perch on the last basement step.

Spike looked up, his blue eyes searching for her, then lingering on the still fresh bite on the side of her neck. "Hey."

"So I brought you wings." She held out the box as she crossed to him.

A half smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, Love."

Buffy sat down beside him. Spike shifted so he could hold her against his chest with one arm, and took the container with his left hand. "The Scoobies all set with the not stabbing me with a piece of sharp wood plan, then?"

She rested her head against his shoulder. "I see a very long non-dusty future for you if we don't all die in the next apocalypse of course."

"Sounds about right." He pried open the lid on the wings and retrieved two. Spike held one out to her but Buffy demurred. As he ate, Buffy ran her fingers up down the arm that was secure around his waist, running over his soft skin and light hair that didn't match his dark roots.

"Spicy enough?" she asked.

"Mm."

Her laugh was quiet. "That's good, right?"

"Yeah."

Above them, they heard her friends scrapping chairs against the floor and the muffled chorus of multiple voices trying to talk over one another. "What are they saying?" Buffy asked.

Spike cocked his head to the side and focused on the noise. "Dawn's fighting Xander for the last slice of pizza and Willow is trying to convince Anya we aren't having sex."

"What?" Buffy sat up straighter. "Geez. Not everyone is horny all the time!"

He shrugged behind her, placing a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. "Speak for yourself, Love."

She grinned, twisting around to see him properly. "Feeling better then?"

Spike closed the wings' container and placed it on the floor beside the cot. His cerulean eyes traced over every angle of her face as if memorizing her. Lifting his hand, Spike brushed the bangs back from her face. "Early one morning."

"Just as the sun was rising," Buffy continued the song softly, her own hands coming to cup his face.

He'd asked her to have Willow look up the song. He wanted to be sure, to be as sure as he could, that there wasn't any of the First left in him.

So Buffy sang, her eyes trained on his as he listened and although he tensed, nothing flickered in those blue eyes that she didn't recognize. When the song was over, Buffy closed her eyes, leaned in, and pressed her lips against his.

Spike's arms came around her back, holding her to him in a needful embrace. The kiss was chaste, a simple meeting of soft lips against one another. Then Buffy leaned back and opened her eyes.

"Still here?"

"Always, Love."

She smiled. "Good." Taking the key from her pants pocket, Buffy unlocked the chains that bound him and tossed them deftly across the basement under the stairs.

Newly freed, Spike laid down on the cot, drawing her down with him. She cuddled against his chest, her arms around his waist. Spike's hands wandered up the back of her shirt, stroking the curve of her spine as he hummed the song that had haunted him for over a century.

They didn't talk about what they had shared when he bit her after coming out of the séance. They didn't need to.

Buffy knew exactly what it was like to lose your mother to a sickness you couldn't stop. She knew what it was to feel that helpless and to want to save someone more than anything. She understood his actions, she didn't judge them, she didn't question them, she understood. That's all that mattered.

"Love you, Buffy."

She smiled as sleep gently claimed her. "Don't ever leave me again."

"Never," he whispered in her ear. "Yours for eternity, Precious. Or as long as you'll have me."

"Eternity sounds good." She snuggled against him.


	30. Chapter 30

Like clockwork Buffy awoke the next morning at eight am. She slipped carefully from Spike's loving embrace and tiptoed silently upstairs. Giles was due to arrive in an hour and she wanted to be ready for him.

After a refreshing twenty minute shower, Buffy took the time to blow dry her hair and apply a fine touch of make-up. Going into her room, she gently woke Dawn.

Her sister stretched, yawning wide. "Hey."

"Morning," Buffy greeted. "Giles'll be here in a half hour. We should get dressed."

"'Kay." Dawn slid back under the covers. "Do pajamas count? Because I'm totally dressed in those."

Buffy laughed. "Whatever you want. But I'm opting for fresh clothes."

She went to her closet, raking through the clothes there searching for the perfect outfit to greet Giles in that would say she was completely in control, in a successful relationship, and in desperate need of his help. She settled on dark blue jeans and her favorite blouse.

Dawn was watching her from the bed, her wide blue eyes slightly unfocused from the desire to continue sleeping. "How's Spike?"

"All de-triggered."

"So back to cuddly vampire status?"

Buffy smiled. "I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate the sentiment, but yeah, there's cuddles involved."

"And smoochies?"

"We're keeping the smoochies to a minimum while Giles is in town." Buffy pulled off her shirt and replaced it with the blouse.

"Lame. Giles should just deal. Spike is a vast improvement over your last dead boyfriend."

"Hey!" Buffy tossed her shirt at her sister's head. It caught Dawn around the cheek and she swatted it away, sticking out her tongue.

"Whatever, so true. This one's all 'Ah, Buffy, I love you so much, let me get a soul for you.' And your last one was all "Ah, Buffy, I am cursed with a soul, let me leave you because I love you so much.'"

"Dawn." Buffy meant it to sound sharp like a reprimand, but it came out far more amused sounding.

"Mhm," Dawn gave her a knowing look. "Plus, Spike's way hotter."

"Ew! Dawn!" Buffy gaped at her sister, aghast.

She rolled her eyes. "Hello? It's so obviously true."

"What is?" Willow asked, popping her head into the room.

"Nothing," Buffy hurried to say, tugging her jeans on.

"Don't you think Spike is better looking than Angel?" Dawn talked over her sister.

Willow squirmed for a minute, her brow furrowed as she thought this over. "You so don't have to answer that!" Buffy's blush was almost painful.

"Well, I mean, I always thought Angel had the hot guy thing going for him, and then Spike was all trying to kill me whenever I saw him which really cuts down on your libido for a guy, then he came back and I was all, you know, gay, so I'm going to have to go with Angel."

"Angel what?" Anya asked, coming out of the bathroom and into Buffy's room.

"Oh my god, we are so not having this conversation," Buffy groaned. "Let's go eat breakfast." She tried to shepherd the female congregation out of her bedroom.

"Who's hotter? Angel or Spike?" Dawn prompted, halting any progress Buffy had made in ending the painfully awkward conversation.

Anya's expression turned serious. "I've never seen Angel, but I have –"

"What are we talking about?" Xander peeked over the tops of Willow's and Anya's heads.

"Nothing!" Buffy practically shouted.

"We are assessing who has the better masculine physique. Angel or Spike," Anya explained calmly.

"What? What!" Xander's eyes looked ready to pop out of his head.

"I think it's Spike," Dawn said.

"And I voted for Angel," Willow continued.

"And I was just deciding," Anya said. "So, like I was saying –"

The doorbell sounded downstairs. "Oh thank god!" Buffy shoved past her friend's, glad for any excuse to leave them before she literally died of embarrassment. It would be a rather ignominious way to for a slayer, she thought.

Running down the stairs, she jumped the last step and landed loudly on the ground floor. "Coming!" She shouted to the door.

Behind her, the rest of the Scoobies squabbled over the horrific subject in question, slowly filtering out her room and down the stairs.

"That the old man?"

Buffy stuttered to a halt, her gaze swinging backwards to find Spike leaning casually against the doorway to the basement. His mouth was pulled up in a half smirk, his hair perfectly dishelved. She couldn't stop the nervous smile that came automatically.

"Yeah." Her eyes darted upwards then back to his smirk. "You – you didn't hear any of that, did you?"

The smirk spread across fully. "No, Love. Wouldn't dream of eavesdropping on your tete-a-tete."

She narrowed her green gaze. "You are such a liar."

He quirked an eyebrow as if to say, 'What do you expect?' "Better answer the door, Precious, before old Rupes thinks I ate you all in your sleep."

"Giles! Right!" Buffy raced the rest of the way to the door and hauled it open.

Seeing her old watcher and father figure, Buffy threw herself into his arms. Giles chuckled happily, patting his slayer's back affectionately. "Very good to see you too, Buffy," he said to the top of her head.

Buffy pulled back grinning. "You're here!"

"I appear to be," he agreed. His eyes moved past her to the shadows where Spike was still standing, not wanting to intrude on the scene, then he released her. Buffy moved back to allow him access to the house, but he didn't move. "And I've brought someone with me."

"Hey, B." Faith stepped out from behind him.

Buffy's stomach dropped, her smile freezing in place then sliding away. "Faith?"

"In the flesh," Faith gave her a lascivious grin, her hips bucking forward.

"Why are you here?" There was no way to make the words sound friendly.

Giles cleared his throat, pulling Buffy's attention back to him. "I asked Faith to join us. The First is a very serious evil to be facing, we will need all the help we can get and Faith agreed to come."

Buffy was unimpressed. "Prison just decided to let you go?"

Faith's expression darkened. "Not exactly. But I'm here to help, B. Playing on your side."

A tense moment passed. Buffy knew that if Giles thought Faith was needed, then she really couldn't argue with him. They were, after all, facing the source of evil and that really wasn't going to be an easy task.

Still, this was Faith, and Faith had done as much as anyone to ruin Buffy's life. So her, being in Buffy's house? Really not on Buffy's list of favorite things.

"Hey," Faith's grin was back as she nodded in the direction behind Buffy. "I remember you. Though Giles here tells me you went and got yourself a shiny new soul."

Spike stepped forward, taking his place beside Buffy, brushing his hand against hers. If the rest of her friends were watching the scene, they didn't make a sound. "Don't rightly remember you. If I had to guess, I'd say you were the psychotic slayer the Scoobies were after a couple of years ago."

She moved toward him, one hand brushing up his chest. Buffy stiffened next to him, her jaw clenched so tightly she was fairly certain she was going to break her teeth.

"Wasn't exactly sporting this look. Had a blonde thing going on then and you didn't seem all that opposed to it. Said something along the lines of ridding you at a gallop –"

Buffy's face shot to Spike's and watched in horror as recognition lit his blue eyes. His mouth opened but no words came out. He looked down at Buffy then back at Faith. "Bloody hell!"

Faith withdrew her hand. "I knew I made an impression."

Buffy was on the brink of her very own apocalypse. "You slept with Spike?" The words were quiet but came out with the fury of a crack of thunder.

The brunette's hands flew up in defense. "Nothing like that, B. Vampires are your kicks not mine. Just had a few words with your fella, nothing he didn't seem to like."

Anger was ripping through all of Buffy's nerves. This was so not happening. Faith did _not_ talk dirty to her now-boyfriend. Faith had slept with Riley, there was no way she had also messed with Spike. It just wasn't possible. And Spike had liked it?

Apprehension reigned on all except for Faith who was actually enjoying the scene. It always got her off, riling up Buffy like that, and Buffy knew that's why she was doing it. The Pretty Pretty Princess Slayer had a wicked temper and Faith thought it was just such fun to let it loose.

"Great. Then I guess I don't have to introduce you two." Buffy knotted her arms over her chest, the itch to take a swing at Faith was burning, but Buffy was determined not to let that happen. She was twenty-two for god sake's, she didn't go around punching people who hit on her boyfriend.

"Aw, B, don't be jealous –"

"I am not jealous," she ground out, just managing to unclamp her teeth long enough to say the words.

Spike's hands went around her hips, tugging her slightly back against him. "Thought something was off with you, Slayer, never heard you so _friendly_," he said the word teasingly.

Faith grinned. "See, we were just having us a sweet little chat."

"As sweet as the one you had with Riley, because I thought that one was really adorable."

"Captain Cardboard?" Spike asked with slight confusion.

"I was just havin' a test drive, sorry, wasn't really myself right after coming out of the coma and everything."

It sounded like an apology, which was weird to say the very least, and vastly under simplified matters between them. Still, if nothing else it was a start. Giles seemed to think so as well, because he chose then to intervene.

He cut a disapproving look in Faith's direction. "Be that as it may, Buffy called me because she wanted my help with the First and that is what we must focus on. Willow tells me the two of you went to vineyard the other night. What did you find out?"

The tension had not eased from Buffy's muscles, but she was grateful that Giles was ready to direct them towards their impending doom not their horrifically damaged past. "Let's relocate into the living room or something. That way we can all be in on it together." Motioning the other two in, she stepped back to look for the rest of her house guests.

As Giles and Faith carried in a lone duffle bag each, Buffy spotted the other Scoobies hovering at the top of the stairs. She hiked an eyebrow at them.

"Uh, Faith! How are you?" Willow blustered with false cheer, descending the staircase to them.

"Not in a jail cell. Life's looking up."

Buffy pulled Spike into the kitchen with her as her friends got reacquainted with the always missed Giles and the far less missed Faith. Leaning her against the counter, Spike kissed his bite mark on her neck, thoroughly distracting her from her newest in a growing collection of house guests.

Buffy's green eyes flashed to his blue ones. "Tell me you did not have sex with her – with me as her – with her as me!"

He cocked his head to the side then frowned. "What? No, Slayer, I never boinked that slayer." He pointed toward the living room.

"Not what I meant," Buffy growled. "Did you have sex with her when she was pretending to be me?"

His eyes went wide. "First time I had sex with you, Pet, was when we brought down the house. You should remember. Told you I knew the only thing better than killing a slayer would be –"

She clapped her hand over his mouth. "Oh, thank god." Then she fell against him, breathing in deep lungfuls of leather, tobacco, and smoke. "I would have killed her. Actually murdered her this time."

Spike didn't question this comment, just wrapped his arms around his slayer smiling. "Didn't know you had it in you to be that territorial, Love. Quite the turn on."

Buffy huffed against his chest. "You give her one curious glance and I will –"

"You're the only one I see," he reminded her.

"Right," she sighed. "Did I mention I love you?"

"Not in the past ten minutes and I've got low self-esteem since the whole First playing Simon Says with my grey cells so you should remind me constantly," he teased, kissing her softly.

"Tonight," she promised quietly. "Faith will take the couch, Dawn will room with Anya, and Giles can take the cot in the basement. You and I are so taking my room back over."


	31. Chapter 31

**A.N.** **Thanks to bowlingforvampires, Gwilwillith, and CailinRua for their always fant****astic comments. =] You guys are awesome. **

* * *

There were too many Scoobies now for the kitchen or dining room to suffice. So instead, they were all gathered in the living room, some on the couch, others on the chairs, and a few sitting on the ground. Buffy was standing, Spike to her left, as she explained the situation at the vineyard and everything else they knew, cleanly leaving out Spike's momentary lapse into deadly territory.

Giles took off his glasses, running a hand over his face. "Of course."

Seven eager faces turned to him. "The Hellmouth. To be reactivated after the five past years of destruction and mayhem that has taken place on top of it, the First would need a considerable sacrifice. You said Andrew killed his friend for the blood? And now they have Andrew. So Jonathon was the sacrifice of friendship and Andrew will be the sacrifice of trust."

Buffy gave her Watcher a very familiar look that said she was not exactly onboard with this explanation, however, Anya came to the rescue before she needed to ask for clarification.

"The First is the source of evil, great evil is needed to re-open the Hellmouth which good has been protecting successfully for the past five years. So to reactivate the Hellmouth into opening, the First needs acts of true evil. Killing your friend is an act of true evil but to have a complete sacrifice, the First would want Andrew to kill himself as well. He trusted that the other nerd was telling him to kill Jonathon so a sacrifice of trust would be enacted upon his suicide."

"So first priority, getting Andrew back," Buffy declared. "If something happens before we get to him will that open the Hellmouth?"

Giles shook his head, replacing his glasses. "The First will need several other sacrifices before that. Remember, the First wanted Angel to kill you, killing a lover is true evil and it was just as satisfied to have Angel kill himself."

"Right. Giles and Anya, look up what sacrifices the First needs to reactivate the Hellmouth. Dawn, Willow, and Xander work on the binding spell. Spike and I will work on figuring out how to rescue Andrew." Buffy looked around at her friend's for their consent. Everyone nodded their compliance until her eyes fell on Faith.

"Still here, B. Think I'd be best suited helping you and bleach boy with the rescue." She hopped up from her seat. "It'll be just like old times."

Buffy felt her stomach churn. Just like old times. That was exactly what she didn't want.

* * *

"We need a blue print of the property," Xander said. "That way, you guys can find the easiest way to get into the Vineyard and back out with Andrew."

He had stopped by the kitchen to take a break from binding researching happening in the dining room. Giles and Anya occupied the living room with First research. It was a whole big research thing and they'd been going at it for the entire morning which had steadily turned into the entire afternoon which had then progressed into the entire evening. It was now closing in on ten o'clock.

Spike shook his head. Buffy, from her seat on the kitchen counter, lifted an eyebrow. "You don't want to fight there, Pet," Spike said. "Too closed in. With all those blind buggers, it'd be a slaughter."

"I'm with Billy Idol. Rather I didn't leave prison to get all sliced and diced." Faith stuck her head out of the freezer to comment, then removed a pint of Chunky Monkey from the icy haven. "You don't care if I eat this, right, B?"

"Actually –"

Faith yanked off the top and licked the untouched ice cream.

"All yours," Buffy grumbled.

"You're a doll." Faith smiled. Fishing through the silverware drawer she grabbed a spoon.

"Right then. I'll just head back to binding spells." Xander snagged a bag of chips and departed.

"Should start charging for food, Love, you'll be out of it by the time this group is done." Spike leaned back against the back door. He had an unlit cigarette in hand, waiting for a chance to step out for a smoke break.

Buffy ran both her hands through her blonde locks. "Okay. We are so not getting anywhere. So far, we have absolutely nothing in the way of rescuing Andrew, if he's even still alive." She tugged at the ends, venting her frustration.

"Don't stress, B. We'll figure it out. We're the good guys, that's what we do." Faith licked off her spoon provocatively.

Buffy noticed Spike noticing this. "Spike."

"Yeah?" He jerked back to her guiltily.

"Go smoke."

"Thanks, Love." He pushed out the door.

"Mind if join?" Faith asked, already heading after him.

Buffy grabbed her by the elbow. "Actually, I do." Their eyes met, a clash of green and dark brown. "You stay away from this one," she said as soon as the door swung soundly shut behind Spike. It really wouldn't do for him to hear her threatening Faith about, well, him; then she'd never hear the end of it.

Faith smiled, her lips coated in a dark lipstick, her favorite shade. "What? You scared I might take a shot with dead boy?"

Buffy squeezed harder than was necessary, sure to leave a bruise if it hadn't been Faith's arm. "I'm serious, Faith. You stay away from him."

"Chill, B." Her smile slid away. "I'm here to make amends, or at least not cause new grievances. 'Sides, I was never that into blondes."

Buffy relinquished her grip, expression grim. They faced off in the center of the kitchen. "If you're here to help, then help. I don't need any more hassles."

Faith held up her hands, one holding the ice cream and the other the spoon. "Alright. So you can't go to the First crib. Then let's bring it out to play."

"What do you – hey, yeah!" Buffy's eyes lit up. "Bring it to us. That could definitely work."

Faith scooped up a big spoonful of ice cream, jumping to sit on the counter. "See, you missed me." She licked the spoon again, grinning.

Buffy ignored this, her thoughts already speeding ahead toward open arenas. "The First isn't going to fall for anything simple, it's basically got spies . . . you know, like they did in that book I read for high school."

There was a crooked eyebrow from Faith as she hoisted her leg onto the counter, curling it in toward her chest, looking far more feline and provocative than Buffy would have liked. "Didn't really do high school, B, so you'll have to help me out with that vague reference."

"You know. The one with the little people and all the rings," Buffy muttered distractedly.

"Right." Faith sucked the ice cream from her spoon. "Little people. Like midgets or are we talking dwarfs?"

"I don't know. There might have been a dwarf involved. Oh! There were definitely elves."

"And rings? Was it like an inter-species kind thing? Sounds kinky." Faith winked even though Buffy wasn't looking at her.

"Ew. Faith, seriously. Mind?" Buffy turned around to face her, hip bumping up against the counter top. "Out of the gutter. They were just wearing the rings, but the rings were evil."

"Evil rings? I'm liking this even more. Kind of like the Glove of Myneghon but less clichéd medieval and minus the psycho ex-Watcher bitch."

"Sure," Buffy frowned, her nose wrinkling up. "Anyway, we're way off topic now. The First is all about the spying which means we have to be all about the super stealth plans. Or, at least, not completely obvious plans."

Faith mock saluted with her spoon. "Aye-aye, Captain."

"Not exactly going for a navel theme here." Buffy pushed off from the counter and resumed pacing, Faith tracked her movements.

"Not navel, how about Black Ops?"

"Definitely more on target. What have we got?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Faith answered it anyway, after finishing her next bite of ice cream. "Two Slayers and a vampire."

"What do we need?"

"A wimp named Andrew."

"What do we do?"

Faith hopped down from the counter, stabbing out with her spoon at an imagined foe. "Kill the blind ass monks!"

Buffy simultaneously rolled her eyes and shoulders. "Wonderful, except how do we do that? They're all crammed inside the vineyard according to Spike and they're not likely to come out and there's really no way for us to trick the First because of the spy havingness that we've already covered so –"

"So, we give 'em a reason to come out, B. You asked what we've got. Two Slayers and a vampire. If that's not enough to make evil come out and party then I've been cooped up in a cell a hell of a lot longer than I thought."

Buffy's gaze darted to Faith. It was perfect. Dangerous, likely to get one of them maimed if not worse, but it could definitely, most likely, probably, basically had a chance of working.

Cracking open the back door, Buffy stuck her head out to speak to Spike. "I've got an idea."

"We've. We've got an idea," Faith corrected, over her shoulder.

Spike flicked his cigarette to the grass, pretending not to notice Buffy's look of disapproval. "Right then. What we've got?"

He joined them in the house, and they spaced back out. Buffy glanced over at the living room, frowning. "Come on, let's go in the basement."

"Oh, dirty secrets? B, you wild girl you." Faith teased as she put the ice cream back in the freezer and tossing her spoon into the sink where it clattered loudly against the stainless steel.

"Just come on."

When they reached the lower floor, Spike sat down on the cot, leaning his back up against the cement wall. Faith sat down next to him, shoulders hunched forward, arms between her sprawled knees. Spike shot her a sideways glance, inching ever so subtly away from her.

Buffy took all this in without really seeing it. She was pacing the length of the basement, thoughts in a whirl. Pacing. It was something she had been doing a lot of lately and she was mildly worried it was becoming an unattractive tick. "We need the monks out of the vineyard so we can get in to find Andrew. We need to draw the monks out, somewhere we can fight them with the least chance of getting completely and utterly slaughtered."

"Definitely on board with that, Boss," Faith said, pulling her pack of cigarettes from her jeans and offering one to Spike, he waved her off, his attention fixed keenly on his girlfriend.

"And you've got a place in mind, Pet? Some lovely little tea house the monks can't resist?"

"No." Buffy stopped pacing, hands on her hips in the righteous fighter for good pose that Spike found far too alluring. "We already have sacrifices that the First wants and we're going to use those to draw the monks out."

Spike's gaze narrowed. "Don't know what you're on about, Buffy, but I don't like it."

Faith looked from one to the other. "Is there some fine text I'm not reading?"

"The First wants you," Buffy spoke directly to Spike, acting as if Faith wasn't even present. "It also wants me. I say we give it what it wants."

He leapt lithely from the cot, stalking angrily to her. "We are not playing games, here, Buffy."

"You're right. This isn't a game. It's war. We need to make a stand."

"I'm not doing anything that could get you hurt."

"And it won't. But it will draw the First out into the open." She rested her hands on his forearms, tilting her head back to meet his.

"You'll just waltz in, will you? With me in tow?" He laughed harshly.

"No." She ran her hands up and his arms then back down. "We'll put on a play. You, me, and Faith, just outside the Vineyard, close to where we listened in the other. One of us will draw the monks from the vineyard to our playing field and while two of us are taking on the monks, the other of us will slip into the now deserted Vineyard and find Andrew."

"That's the plan? Just hope the little monks want to come out and play along with their minster pal and then send one of us into the death trap to save the little boy?"

"Yes. Faith'll draw the monks out, then while you and her are giving them the fight of their . . well, I'm not exactly clear on if they are alive or not – but –" Buffy waved this off, her expression tightening as she focused. "I'll go into the Vineyard, I'll manage any lingering monks and get Andrew out."

"You bloody well think so?" Spike shook off her hold, turning his back on her.

Faith rolled her eyes in aggravation. "What are we even talking about here? Why is the First interested in the two of you?"

"The First was using me as its private puppet. Buffy wants to play that up and get the First to come play hide and seek with us. It's looking for a sacrifice, one of a lover and a warrior I'd suspect. Prime pair right here." He waved between himself and Buffy.

"Exactly. There's no way the First wouldn't show up for that."

"Then what?" Spike wheeled around. "You think it'll just leave Andrew unprotected? Leave 'im with some Star Trek and a Bloomin' Onion?"

But Faith was nodding seeing the logic of the plan. "It's a three for one special, Billy. Bet all that out pouring of blood would get the First revving up big time."

"And what happens when all its little friends catch on that we're playing them? The bastards without their eyes? The priest? Think they won't go in for Buffy and Andrew a la carte?"

"Two slayers and vampire? Think we can handle it." Faith shrugged.

"Sodding carrot top! Both of you!" Spike threw up his hands.

"This is a good plan, Spike. Well, okay, it's our only plan, but that doesn't make it a bad one. We'll be fighting in open territory, better odds for us. There'll be three of us instead of two and as long as you two keep the monks occupied while I'm doing Andrew-rescuing, it's as good is it's going to get."

"I'm not doing this."

"Don't see as you have much of a choice, Billy Boy. B wants to go for it, I think it's solid. You're outnumbered."

Spike shoved his hands into his pockets, fuming. But Buffy could tell from his glower that he knew he was overruled. He didn't like the plan, if you could call it that, but he'd go along with it. It was all they had for now and all that they were likely to come up with.

"Great." Buffy rolled her shoulders back, trying to ease the tension that had settled between them. "Tomorrow night?"

"I just got in to town, B. Give a girl a night's rest first." Faith sat on the cot, stretching out.

"Good, you already found your bed," Buffy said. Reaching out, she clasped Spike's hand in hers, digging through his too tight pockets to get to it. "We'll let you rest." Then she dragged him with her out of the basement.

Faith laid back, pulling out her carton of cigarettes and lighter from her pockets. "Got to love Sunnydale."


	32. Chapter 32

**A.N.** Thanks to everyone for the reviews they are always awesome to read =] And thanks for the follows and favorites, those make my day.

* * *

"Spike, talk to me," Buffy pleaded, sitting in the middle of her bed.

He had been staring moodily out her bedroom window for the past hour, it was starting to drive her crazy. The gang had all called it a night at half past eleven, retiring to their separate sleeping arrangements, but Spike hadn't said one word to her since she had decided upon the 'Plan' as she was calling it in her mind, capital included.

She fell back on the mattress with a muffled exhale of annoyance. "Please don't do this to me," she said. "Be mad, rant, rave, scream, just don't shut me out. Silence on you is eerily unsettling."

He huffed. It worried her that she saw this as an improvement in his social skills.

"We're supposed to be getting reacquainted with my bed." She patted the spot next to her.

Nothing.

"Fine." Buffy rolled over onto her stomach, face down in her pillow. "Ignore me until the world ends, which could be, you know, tomorrow."

Silence.

She pinched her eyes shut, focusing on taking deep calming breaths to sooth the frenzy running through her at being ignored by Spike, it was just unnatural, the concept of Spike choosing not to speak.

Then the mattress dipped down beside her. She froze, not wanting to startle him into going away again.

"Bloody well hate you for making that damn plan," Spike said tersely.

"Yeah, kind of figured I wasn't a hit star with that plan." Her words came out flat from the pillow that was minorly suffocating her.

"I'm not going to let you go running in after damsel in distress Andrew. He isn't worth it."

Buffy twisted onto her side. In the moonlight, her lover's features looked more feral than ever. His pale skin glistening, his eyes shadowed, and his teeth glinting as he spoke. "Andrew is a person. Maybe not the best person, but he is worth saving because he's in trouble and it is at least partly my fault if not totally."

"Rot. The blathering prat would already have been dead if it wasn't for you kidnapping his sorry self."

"Not exactly the point." Her fingers, of their own accord, stretched out and began to tentatively trail up and down the side of his leg.

Spike glanced briefly down at her, his eyes straying to her hand, where his ring gleamed in the dark, then back to her face. "No. It's not the point. The point is, I'm going in for him, not you."

Buffy's eyes widened to surprising limits. Her shock was probably insulting, if the look on Spike's face was anything to go by. "Y-you?" she stuttered dumbly.

He scoffed, his fingers pulling out a cigarette from seemingly thin air. "You're not the only one who can play hero, Love." He tapped his chest. "Got my own soul now, think the title's up for grabs."

"But –" her brow furrowed as she reached up and flicked away his cigarette without thought. "It's dangerous and I've done a lot more stealth rescuing than you have and –"

"Dangerous. Pretty much where I was going with this whole playing hero thing. I've had a lot more time with the First, what with it muckin' around in my head of late and all. I know more about it. I'll be the one doing the rescuing."

"Spike – that's not – I'm the Slayer." It came out sounding regrettably pompous and while Buffy's was busying looking contrite about it, Spike was sending her a glare that clearly meant he wouldn't be swayed by pompous Slayers, even the ones he was dating.

Shaking herself out, Buffy rose onto her knees; she scooted closer to him, close enough that she could rest her forehead against his. She was relieved when he didn't pull away, his impossibly blue eyes bore into hers, daring her to clarify what she'd meant.

Her lips brushed his as she spoke. "I trust you with my life, I trust you with the lives of my friends. I trust you more than anyone else right now. Can't you trust me?"

Spike's eyelids fluttered shut. "I'm so scared of losing you," he whispered.

"Don't be," she whispered back, her own eyes closing as she leaned in and kissed him.

He pulled her into his lap, hands sliding up beneath her shirt to rest against the warm curve of her back. Buffy didn't have time for pleasantries though, she'd been waiting all day for this. Latching onto the hem of his t-shirt, she hoisted it unceremoniously off of him.

Tucking Buffy tight to his chest, Spike rolled them over so that she was on her back beneath him. The moonlight still cast his face in shadows and it was almost like looking up at a stranger. To reassure herself, Buffy framed his face with her hands and tugged him down to her lips.

Spike's mouth stole across hers with fiery kisses, each harder and more desperate than the last, his anxiety easily read in his physical response to her. It lit a fire in Buffy that sparked in her heart and flamed her desire. This was what it was to be needed, deeply needed, not just to save the world, but needed by someone, someone who wouldn't want to exist in a world in which you didn't. Something she hadn't felt in an excruciatingly long time.

Hands running up his bare chest, Buffy was determined to return the favor of need. Her mouth broke free of Spike's to dance across his collar bone and bite down at the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Spike responded by thrusting against her, his body seamlessly settled between her thighs even as their jeans blocked his efforts.

Buffy sought to remedy this as soon as possible, dropping her hands to his waist where she ripped his belt free and tore at his jeans until he was kicking them off. She didn't even comment on the lack of undergarments this time, because, really, this was more convenient.

He must have felt her smile as it curved against his neck because he laughed, more of a pant than actual humor, but it got the point across just the same. "Knew you'd come around to it, Pet," he teased, his own deft fingers working the buttons of her pants and slipping them off her hips with admirable speed.

"Yeah, well," Buffy said between kisses, her hands tracing the hard planes of his stomach to come around and grab at his ass.

"Eloquence, thy name is Buffy." He grabbed the side of her underwear and ripped it free. There was a noise of indignation from his lover but he quickly swallowed it with his lips, his tongue lashing out to tangle with hers.

Gripping Spike's shoulders firmly, Buffy rolled them over without breaking the kiss. His features were thrown into relief by the moon and she marveled at the blue of his eyes, they way they were devouring her with love and lust in equal measures.

Grinning down at him, she scooted back against him until she was pressed against his stiff display of desire. "Not sure we need words for this, Spike." She twisted her hand behind her to stroke him roughly.

He growled in response, his hips bucking up against her. Her teeth sunk into her lip with anticipation. "Better shut me up then." Taking her forearms in each hand, he reeled her back down to kiss him and once they were properly occupied with the task, Buffy lifted her hips and positioned herself over him.

Without warning, she sank down, her wet, slick heat enveloping him and making him choke out an unidentifiable word in surprise. Lowering her lips beside his ear, she whispered, "Speechless yet?" She rocked against him for emphasis.

His harsh panting was the only response before he took her hips in his hands and helped her establish a tempo that was more of a sprint than a jog towards the finish line. Arching his back, Spike licked a sloppy line across her breast, Buffy hissed in a breath, pressing herself forward against his tongue. His lips closed around her right nip and her head fell back as she revealed in his worship.

She felt the vibrations of his groan against her sensitive flesh and it hurtled her forward toward the dizzying pinnacle she always reached when they were together. Her hands reached upward, tangling in his stiff hair to hold him in place and wring as much gratification as possible from what he was doing to her.

Not to be out done, Spike abandoned holding her hips, one hand snaking between them to rub at the apex of her pleasure, while the other cradled her left breast, fingers chaffing to perfection. Buffy's gasp quickly melted into a moan that ended in a quick repetition of his name.

Clamping his thighs around her, Spike twisted them so that Buffy was once more underneath him and he was able to set a new rhythm inside her, one that was so hard and fast that Buffy's fingers untwined from his hair to hold onto the headboard.

He settled his face in the nook of her shoulder, tongue rasping against the flesh as he held her body against his and did what came so beautifully naturally to him.

"Spike!" Buffy cried out, her body arching upward suddenly as her orgasm crashed down around her.

He groaned, nipping at her soft skin, but not biting. "Buffy, fuck," he grounded out, losing his rhythm as his hips began to jerk more erratically.

"Spike, please," she pleaded, needing him to find satisfaction. She angled her hips up against his, meeting his thrust and sending him over the edge, with her name on his lips.

He collapsed on top of her, their bodies spent and intertwined. She clung to him, not wanting to ever move again. Well, unless it was for a repeat performance.

"Can I talk now?"

Buffy took the opportunity to smack the back of his head smartly. "No. There are better uses for your tongue that I can think of."

There was a brief growl of appreciation before Spike slipped from her grasp and slowly made his way down her still flushed body.

* * *

The sun was just rising as Buffy and Spike finally settled down on the bed, her head on his chest as he drew strands of her long blonde hair between his fingers. "What're you thinking about, Precious?"

"Hm?" Buffy blinked sleepily. "Oh, nothing, it's dumb."

"Dumb?"

"Yeah." A blush flushed steadily up from her chest to her cheeks. Spike traced its trail with his index finger then slid over to outline her lips.

"Can still tell me. Won't tell the others."

She smiled, sucking in her bottom lip before deciding, to hell with it. "So. I was trying to tell Faith this really great comparison of the First's spies to the ones in this book that I read from high school, and she totally didn't get it."

"What book, Pet?"

"Uhm." Buffy buried her face against his stomach. "I don't exactly remember the name of it." The words came out muffled against his cool skin.

"Okay," he said, drawing out the word in a way in which Buffy knew he was working not to sound amused. "What's this book about, then?"

"Little people and rings."

"Little people?"

"Yes."

"And rings."

She drew a pattern along his thigh. "Uh – huh."

"Can't give me anything else to go on here?"

"Well, there were definitely elves, they weren't the little people, and the rings were evil."

Spike was silent at this revelation and as the seconds ticked on, Buffy wondered if she was mixing up a book with a movie, Xander was always making them watch ridiculous stuff. And now she probably sounded like a rambling idiot in front of her centuries old boyfriend who used to write poetry and –

"Buffy. Are you talking about _The Lord of the Rings_?" His tone was incredulous.

"Oh my god! That's it!" She shot up, hugging him excitedly.

He hugged her back, laughing archedly. "Bloody hell, Pet, remind me not to pick you for my team of Taboo, yeah?"

"Please, like you could've explained it better?" Buffy rolled her eyes to showcase her opinion on the matter before lying back down beside him.

"Anya could have done better than that and that's really saying something."

"Blah blah blah. You're just trying to cover because you didn't get it sooner."

There was a snort of derision that Buffy was determined to ignore. "Stick to slaying, Love. You're much better at it." Then he kissed the top of her head in a way that erased any lingering annoyance on her part.


End file.
